Page 51 of Wild Hearts

"Love? Like? What the hell do these things have to do with marriage? Security, wealth, strength, power— these are the qualities you want in a husband."

"Father, show me this paragon, and I promise to consider him.".

His eyes kindled. It was the first time she had called him father. "As a matter of fact, I've already had an offer for you."

"Who?" she asked, amazed.

"I'll tell you this much— his line goes back for centuries. The Royal Stewarts are newcomers beside his ancestry. He has not one earldom but two, and can call on a thousand men at the crook of a finger, so large is his clan."

"But what does he look like?"

"You'll be able to see for yourself. He's invited for dinner tomorrow night."

"And that's all you are going to tell me?"

"Let's see— he's a lord and a baron as well as being a double earl."

"Plague me no further." She held up her hand. "I can see you are enjoying this game. I shall reserve judgment until I meet this prince among men."

Tabrizia, watching from the top of Tantallon Castle, saw a cavalcade of a hundred men ride in. They wore the blue-and-white livery of their clan, every man displaying a red heart emblazoned across his breast. She kept them waiting a full hour before she went down to dinner. Her gown had a black velvet skirt and, in vivid contrast, a turquoise quilted top with a low-cut, square neckline and extravagant sleeves. She set off the gown with earrings encrusted with aquamarines.

Magnus awaited her at the bottom of the main staircase. "Tabrizia, I want you to meet James, Earl of Douglas."

With her head back to take in his great height, she gazed up at the Black Douglas, who grinned down at her, his white teeth flashing in his black beard. Her eyes snapped, and she greeted him very deliberately, "Hello, pig's friend."

His eyes lost none of their admiration as he said, "By God, when you toss your head in that willful way, I could warm my hands on the blaze of your hair."

Magnus looked worried. "You two know each other?"

Tabrizia's laugh rippled forth at the ridiculous situation. "I know he is the most audacious man in Scotland!"

As he bowed before her, she saw the heart of Douglas pricked out in diamonds on the breast of his doublet, and she sighed for what could never be. In that moment, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she loved Paris Cockburn and would never love another so deeply. A love like that could only happen once. To marry his best friend would be impossible; Paris would always be there between them. She didn't want the Earl of Douglas, but she knew someone who would. If he liked willful redheads, she had the perfect mate in mind for him. She tucked the knowledge away secretly and took his arm. "Come, let us dine. The reasons I have for not accepting your offer will sit better on a full stomach, I think."

If Tabrizia and James both appreciated the humor of the situation, not so Magnus. He glowered and fumed through the first two courses until Tabrizia decided to take his mind off his troubles and give him something to think about. "Father and I have decided to go to Court for Christmas."

James Douglas admitted almost grudgingly, "That is probably the wisest move you will ever make. Most of Scotland's nobles are in England at the moment, and if none of them suit, there is the English nobility to choose from. It is said their wealth makes us look like paupers."

Before the evening was over, Magnus was so convinced of the soundness of the venture, he spoke as if it had been his idea all along.

In bed later, Tabrizia could not dispel Paris from her thoughts. She longed to go to him and tell him she would be his mistress, if that was the only way they could be together, but then she saw clearly that that was exactly what her mother had done before her, and she knew that she must have the security of marriage. She would never brand her children with the stigma of illegitimacy. She must go to England and put as much distance between herself and Paris Cockburn as possible. A tear slipped down her cheek. She needed a way to exorcize the influence of the handsome devil.

Margaret Sinclair was bitterly disappointed when she discovered Magnus was leaving her behind. Silently, she swore vengeance upon him and upon this upstart daughter of his. She did not mind him breeding a bastard; what almost choked her was the fact that he had brought her home like a trophy. Now she was to be flaunted and displayed at Court. So Margaret planned her revenge, bit by bitter bit.

Mrs. Hall was thrilled to the marrow of her bones to think that Tabrizia valued her enough to take her to England. She tirelessly laundered and pressed all her mistress's wardrobe before it was packed. The clothes were spread out across Tabrizia's chamber with wild abandon. Partly filled trunks spilled out lavish garments trimmed with ribbons and fur edgings. The exquisitely embroidered, lingerie that lay upon the bed embraced every material from mere wisps of satin and lace to heavy velvet chamber robes. Tabrizia couldn't believe the amount of baggage they were taking, because, as well as their personal effects, they were taking their own furnishings and bedding.

Magnus was taking his own horses, including two palfreys for Tabrizia. He intended to lease a small house when they arrived in the capital, and he would leave his ship, the Ambrosia, moored in the Thames estuary.

Mrs. Hall painstakingly folded every item still strewn about the room before Tabrizia retired for the night. Just as she was about to get into bed, Magnus knocked and came in with a small casket of jewels, including a delicate set of pale amethysts that had belonged to the old countess.

As Tabrizia looked at him, she admitted to herself that she had developed a fondness for the Earl of Ormistan with his gruff, booming voice and his ruin of a face that once had been so handsome. He had treated Tabrizia with such generosity, she could not help feeling gratitude toward him.

"I came to wish you good night, and to bring you these." He held out the casket, and as she picked up the amethysts, she caught her breath. "Oh, they are lovely. That violet color is my favorite."

"Just the color of your eyes, and hers, too," he said sadly.

Tabrizia could see that he was remembering her mother. She was hungry to know of her, and sensed that he wished to share his memories.

"Tell me of her," she softly urged.

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