Page 40 of Tempted
The king shook his head. “Young Hotspur would raid just for the pleasure of harassing the bloody Hamiltons. Not bad enough we have a running feud between Hamilton and Douglas—feuds have almost erupted between Campbell, Kennedy, and Douglas. I told Campbell tae get his daughter wed tae Donal Kennedy as soon as may be and ordered him tae sign a bond of friendship. I agreed tae have the wedding at Stirling”
“Why not a marriage bond between my cousin Rob’s daughter and Douglas?” Janet asked.
“It wouldn’t be the first marriage between Clan Kennedy and Clan Douglas,” he said, remembering.
“It shouldn’t have gone wrong. It was a good match,” Janet said.
“It was a perfect match,” James agreed. “Both their great-grandfathers married daughters of King Robert III. Damn, I’d love tae see an alliance between Kennedy and Douglas. I’d also like a bond between Hamilton and Douglas, but both houses have only sons.”
“I have the solution! Rob Kennedy has two daughters. Marry one to Hamilton, the other to Douglas, then they’ll all be united. Order them to do it, and order them all to sign a bond of friendship”
The king smiled. “Ah Jan, ye make it sound so simple. Order this and order that. Black Ram Douglas wouldn’t be best pleased tae be ordered tae take a wife.”
“He’s past thirty, it’s time he had an heir!” she pointed out.
“Over time,” chuckled James. “He’s one of my finest young warriors, Jan. I’m counting on him tae use his vessels tae harry the English if their ships keep up their piracy. I dinna want him pissed off at me for ordering him tae wed.”
She moved sensuously against him and lifted her mouth to his. “Sire, you are not nearly devious enough” His shaft raised its head and stretched itself like an animal awakening from a nap. “Call in your earls and tell them to put an end to the feuds, or you’ll be forced to hang a few of your lords. Cassillis will soon give Rob Kennedy his orders. I admit you might have to bang your fist on the table to make Angus know you mean business, but I don’t think even Ramsay Douglas would dare defy his chief.”
She was right, James admitted. To say Archibald Douglas was frighteningly arrogant was an understatement—he was insufferable. As the king covered Janet’s silken body, he wondered once again why Angus had allowed this delectable woman to slip through his fingers.
Chapter 13
James Stewart decided this time that there was safety in numbers. He summoned three of his earls —Cassillis, Arran, and Angus—to a private meeting and assumed a cold, implacable attitude. Though the Hamilton and Douglas clans were sworn enemies, Arran and Angus never let it interfere with their civility toward each other. As chiefs, they were above petty feuds and left the quarreling to their clans.
The king looked at each in turn and finally said with a note of contempt, “Are ye growing too old tae control yer clans?”
They were on the defensive immediately—exactly where he wanted them. He proceeded with a blistering denunciation upon their abilities to put an end to the raids. “I want ye, nay I demand that ye eradicate these raids! They are an evil to which you turn a blind eye, but I’m warning ye for the last time, I will no longer tolerate fighting, burning, and taking booty among ourselves.”
James Hamilton, Earl of Arran, tried to point out that there would be feuds as long as two Scots remained alive in the realm, but the king crashed his fist down upon the oak table. “Silence! Must I need spell out chapter and verse the various means at yer disposal?” His voice was raised in anger, which was unusual for the even-tempered monarch. “Bonds must be signed. Then if the bonds are broken, hanging is justified!”
Cassillis swallowed hard, for he knew damned well his Kennedys had been raiding. Arran too felt his neck—not only had his Hamiltons likely been lifting cattle, the king knew they’d been brawling with the Douglas up and down the Cannongate. On top of that, as admiral, he had to take the censure for allowing English ships to harry Scots vessels.
Only Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, remained undaunted. He was a borderer, and a good borderer believed that the goods of all men in time of necessity were by the law of nature common. The king had a goal in mind, but he had yet to reveal what he wished to accomplish with this passionate harangue. Angus veiled his shrewd eyes and waited.
The king turned to Archibald Kennedy. “Cassillis, you are the pivotal means tae an end of these hostilities. Blood bonds are the best means of forging together rebellious clans tae preserve the peace. I’ve already spoken tae Argyll. I want ye tae see that Donal Kennedy weds the Campbell girl immediately. Now Cassillis, ye’ve two nieces. I want one tae go tae Arran and one tae Douglas.”
The Earl of Arran knew his son Patrick was ready to declare for Lady Valentina Kennedy, so he bowed his head in acquiescence. Angus, however, knew Hotspur Douglas would welcome marriage as heartily as the hangman’s noose. He opened his mouth to protest, but James said smoothly, “Angus, you know how a bond of marriage cements good relations. Since yer son married Bothwell’s lass, there’s been peace between yer clans where once there was nothing but hostility.”
Archibald Douglas’s mouth turned down at the corners. The Hepburn wench enjoyed indifferent health and had yet to produce an heir. He almost told the king to forget wedding plans for Ram Douglas, then bethought how the clan was in need of heirs to carry on the bloodline. “We’d no’ do well tae keep the best blood in Scotland bottled up when there’s so many could do wi’ a drop,” Douglas said with a contemptuous look at the others.
The king stood up, and they knew the audience was over. “See to it,” he added in conclusion.
As Cassillis and Arran departed, James said, “Angus, a word.”
Archibald paused, wondering shrewdly what else James was after.
The king possessed great shrewdness too, however. “I assume all yer vessels are armed with cannon?”
Douglas nodded in a guarded fashion.
The king continued, “If it becomes necessary, I want ye tae put them at Ramsay’s disposal. I know he’s not above a bit of pirating.”
“Sire, Arran’s yer bloody admiral,” Douglas pointed out.
James rolled his eyes. “I know, man. Is it any wonder I need the help of Douglas?” James let out an inaudible sigh. At last he had won him over.
Ramsay Douglas and his hardened moss-troopers usually wore scuffed leathers and rode about the wild borders armed to the teeth. Other years he had attended the Border Warden’s Court attired this way and eyed with contempt the English penchant for pageantry. This time, however, his instincts told him to arrive with all pomp and ceremony.
