Rogue Cockburn had been acutely aware of Tabrizia's presence. He saw the men dangling after her and suppressed the impulsive urge to kill. He still thought of her as his, and he had cherished the hope that when she saw him again, she would come to his arms willingly. Instead, she had recoiled from him. He cursed himself for letting a mere girl play such havoc with his heart. Whatever was the matter with him? In the past he had always been able to enjoy a woman casually, but Tabrizia, barely a woman, shattered his self-control to the point where he wanted to take her immediately. Even greater than his desire was the need for her to love him.
Magnus was surprised to see Paris at his door and asked, "Is aught amiss at home?"
"All at home are well, Magnus, but there is something amiss. Douglas has discovered that Huntly has advised the King to garrison English soldiers in Scotland."
"Hellfire! 'Tis the first I've heard of the rumor. It must be stopped. My authority, and that of every other noble in Scotland, will be undermined and destroyed."
"I intend to seek an audience with the King to try to persuade him that he is receiving suicidal advice. Most Scots accept a union of crowns but not a union of states. Scotland will never accept one law, one army."
"Let me know how you fare with the King. His mind is much taken up with English affairs these days, no pun intended!"
"More bad news, Magnus. John Gordon will be at Court today. The Sea Witch passed his ship yesterday. I have no time to lose if I am to reach the King's ear before Gordon."
"Then I shan't keep you, but let me know the outcome. I will gladly add my voice to yours if you need me."
When Paris finally got permission to attend His Majesty, it was along with a roomful of other courtiers, supplicants, and petitioners, each with a cause that needed furthering. Paris grinned at the familiar sight of King James. By God, even England could not alter him. He still looked more lackey than monarch with his stained doublet, scruffy beard and old carpet slippers. Paris never underestimated the keen intelligence that lay beneath this unkempt facade. The King had one of the finest minds in Europe and was as shrewd as Machiavelli. Before the audience finished, a chamberlain brought Cockburn a message that the King wished to see him alone, after everyone departed.
"Guidsakes, laddie, ah couldna help but recognize ye, standin' head an' shoulders ower the rest o' the rabble, wi' that red hair blazin' like a torch."
Paris bowed deeply. "Your Majesty does me great honor."
"Dinna cozen yersen into thinkin' yer in ma good graces, ye rogue. Ye all seek to rule Scotland in my absence. Ye fancy yersen uncrowned Kings, but dinna think to fool yer old dad." James often referred to himself in this way.
"I don't think we fool you for one moment, Sire," acknowledged Paris, "but I fear rumors and unwise advice are being deliberately poured into your ears."
"Och! Rumors fly around here thick as whores on a Friday in Glasgow. Ye think I canna sort out rumors from truth?" demanded James.
"You always could in the past, Sire," flattered Paris.
The King wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Guidsakes, stop beatin' about the bushes. Yer here because o' the soldiers I've ordered garrisoned up north."
"In Scotland," pinpointed Paris.
"Laddie, my kingdom now stretches from Land's End to John O'Groats. I've ordered the garrisons, and ye'll accept them, but"— he winked—"there's no law to prevent the soldiers in the garrisons from all bein' loyal Scots, now is there?"
"You reassure me, sire," praised Paris, still on his guard.
"But mind, ah still count on ma Borderers to keep the real peace up yonder!"
"You have my oath, Sire," swore Paris solemnly.
"In that case, ye rogue, ye can sign, a Bond of Peace wi' Huntly."
Paris's lips compressed as he realized he had one foot in the trap. "It will be my pleasure, Sire...after Huntly has signed."
"Ye think that gives ye an 'out,' my cockerel? Ha! I've the means to force Huntly to sign and ye've just pledged ye'll sign if he does."
Paris regretted that he had ever come. He bowed. "So be it, Your Majesty."
"Ye can show yer appreciation wi' a shipment o' Scots whisky from that distillery o' yours," said James seriously.
Paris didn't feel it atotal loss. At least when John Gordon arrived, he would be viewed with as much suspicion as himself. Perhaps more.
The next day he lost no time in seeking out other lords of the Border country to sound them out about Scotland's future. He persuaded Alexander Setan, the Chancellor of Scotland, to join him at the Queen's court for an evening's entertainment, knowing the atmosphere of pleasure was most conducive to shared confidences. As the two modish gentlemen entered the crowded receiving room of Anne's Court, they came face-to-face with Tabrizia. Paris swept her a mocking bow. Sandy Setan looked most interested and said, "If you know this lady, perhaps you would be good enough to tell me her name?"
Jealously flared up within Paris. He hated that she was here where other men could look their fill and pursue her for seduction. He'd be damned if he'd introduce her to Setan.
As Paris looked at her, his eyes raked the bared shoulders insolently. "Names are unimportant here. She is just another little courtesan."