Page 13 of How to Be a Scottish Mistress

Fiona’s cheeks reddened. “You are my last hope.”

The earl’s surprised expression did not alter. “These are dangerous times to be forging alliances, milady. Especially with a Scottish earl.”

“Spencer and I have been squarely placed in danger’s path ever since Henry’s death. Though he believes otherwise, King Edward cannot live forever. His son and heir is a very different sort of man. It will be difficult for him to rule England’s nobility with the same iron fist as his father. I need to be ready to reclaim my son’s birthright the moment an opportunity arises.”

“What do ye want from me?”

“Spencer is intelligent, passionate, and eager to learn. All he lacks is the proper training.”

The earl furrowed his brow. “Is there no one in England to foster the lad?”

“None will have him.”

“Why?”

Emotion rose inside Fiona, clutching at her throat. “He was wounded during the attack. His injuries have been slow to heal.”

“He’s a cripple?”

“No!” The tension in her stomach twisted. She couldn’t lie; the moment the earl saw Spencer he would know the truth. “His right leg is not as strong as the left. But it will improve.”

“There’s those that can be taught when they are lacking,” Duncan remarked. “Old Douglas wields a sword as good as any man, and he has but one hand.”

“Hmmm.” The earl settled back in his chair. He didn’t seem entirely convinced, but at least he was still listening. “What do ye offer in return for my aid?”

Fiona’s heart leapt. “A half yield of our grain crops for three years.”

“What else?”

“Hunting rights in our northernmost woods.”

“And?”

Fiona nervously licked her lips. “Twenty bolts of our finest wool. The weavers of Arundel are known throughout the kingdom for their skill. You’ll find no finer material in all the land.”

The earl studied her for a moment. “As far as I can see, ye have neither crops, nor land, nor cloth. I’ll grant ye ’tis rather clever offering things ye dinnae possess in exchange fer what you want, but only a fool would agree to such a bargain.”

Fiona could feel her heart beating harder than it ever had. “With your help, someday I will have it all again. And I shall keep my word and give you what we agreed upon.”

His expression grew quiet, contemplative. Fiona allowed herself to hope, making the earl’s next words all the more crushing.

“Someday is far away. Yet even if I were willing to wait, I must maintain that ye are offering nothing to make it worth my time and effort.”

Fiona stood stunned for a moment, struggling for words, her nails flexing deep into the cloth of her overskirt. “I appeal to your honor, my lord, to your sense of decency.”

“Sadly, ye are gravely misinformed as to my character.”

He is turning me away. Disappointment slammed into Fiona’s chest like a fist. She had expected the negotiations would be challenging, but had been confident a satisfactory solution would be found. But what use was compromise when the earl showed no interest at all in anything she offered?

There had to be something he wanted, something he would prize enough to strike a bargain with her. More often than not she had heard Henry say that every man had his price. What was the earl’s?

“There must be something, my lord,” Fiona’s voice trailed off, her pride keeping her shoulders straight, her head high.

And that’s when she saw it. A flash of passion glowing from the depths of his eyes. A gleam of male interest, a spark of masculine admiration. Sexual desire.

It startled her. Henry liked to tell her she was pretty and would often compliment her golden hair or fair complexion or green eyes. And she enjoyed hearing it. But those words were never spoken with overt desire. At first, she had been too young to realize there was a lack of physical intimacy in her marriage. By the time she learned that her marriage was different from most, it was no longer important.

Henry treated her with respect, showered her with kindness, favored her with devotion. One night, after drinking too much ale, he had confessed that his lack of physical attention toward her stemmed from always thinking of her as he first knew her. She had come to his castle as a child, and though she had grown to womanhood beneath his roof, he forever saw her as a young girl.

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