Page 91 of Wild Hearts

He threw up his arms in mock surrender. "I'll sign the bloody peace bond."

She stared in amazement. "Well, that was too easy." She eyed him suspiciously. "You decided to sign it long before I said anything, didn't you? Oh, you are a devil. I shan't say another word to you!"

"Heaven be praised." He laughed. "Will you come up now, or do I have to carry you?"

"Carry me," she whispered seductively.

He slipped his arm under her knees and lifted her high. He pretended to stagger. "Good Lord, what a weight, I don't know if I'm up to this."

She giggled happily against him and whispered, "I can feel that you are, sir!"

He kissed her twenty times before he placed her gently in the bed. He traced her collarbone with a fingertip, and she drew his hand lower, longing for the rough penetration, followed by the heat of his body as he covered her and the journey on which he took her with him to such heights of bliss, she touched the stars. When they awoke, he still held her in a possessive embrace. He dipped his head to kiss her sleepy eyelids, and sighed his contentment.

Venetia came to Cockburnspath to have her child. She had told Lennox she would be less afraid if she could be surrounded by her sisters, and, as if pulled by magnets, Damascus and Shannon also arrived in August.

Paris rigged up a small pony cart so the mothers-to-be could ride about in the sultry summer heat and get lots of fresh air. Even Alexandria enjoyed the outings. She had braved Paris's wrath, and he had bade her, kindly enough, to await developments. A tranquillity had settled upon her, which made her easier to live with. This same tranquillity infected Venetia and Tabrizia. They each exhibited more patience and tolerance with a sweetness of disposition that sent Shannon's eyes rolling heavenward in exasperation. All the conversation centered around birthing and accouchements until Paris finally exploded. "Do women ever discuss anything but birth and death?"

An enormous diversion occurred mid-month. Bothwell rode in, accompanied by none other than John Gordon and his son Adam, They traveled on Bothwell's personal guarantee of safe passage, both in and out of Cockburnspath.

Paris banished his women to the family rooms in the tower before ever he let the Gordons set foot in the castle. Alexandria sat pale and trembling, fearing she would be summoned to the parley; then fearing she would not.

John Gordon had enough sense to let Bothwell do his talking for him. He was a well-built man, not so tall or broad as the Cockburns but darkly handsome. Paris did not bother to extend the hospitality of offering a drink, which showed his displeasure and outrage at this intrusion, clearer than anything else could.

Bothwell cleared his throat. "The Gordons have come to answer the charges you have made. The charge of rape is denied. However," he added hastily, "seduction is admitted and restitution offered."

"Restitution?" asked Paris coldly.

Bothwell plunged in. "They offer marriage, an honorable solution."

"I have no time for jests." Cockburn waved his hand in dismissal and turned away.

"And also," added Bothwell in a doggedly determined voice, they are willing to offer adequate compensation."

Paris turned and subjected Adam Gordon to a close scrutiny. He was a younger version of his handsome father, without any of the cruelty in his face. Paris summoned a servant to fetch Alexandria. She came, pale and tremulous, eyes downcast, heart aflutter. Paris's eyes never left Adam Gordon's face. At sight of Alexandria he saw the boy's face soften. As she raised her eyes to seek Adam, the sweetness of his smile warmed the room.

Paris spoke directly to the younger Gordon. "If I give my sister to you in holy wedlock, are you willing to live here at Cockburnspath for one full year while we get to know you better?"

"I am willing, milord." Adam spoke up clearly, without hesitation, although the elder Gordon looked displeased.

"I will send to the church, and we will witness the ceremony today. I have no wish to detain your father under my roof any longer than is necessary," he told the boy bluntly.

Bothwell spoke. "And what monies or castles do you ask?"

Paris spoke directly to John Gordon. "You are Huntly's heir, are you not?"

Gordon nodded guardedly.

"Make Adam your heir, instead of your other son."

John Gordon almost balked, then swallowed the insult and the threat to both his and his father's life, implied in Cockburn's words.

"A signed affidavit to that effect is all I require," said Cockburn airily. "Of course, it goes

without saying: that the mortgages owed to my wife must still be paid."

Gordon gritted his teeth and nodded.

Bothwell pressed Paris. "And the bond of peace?"

---