The laird roiled off of his lover, panting with his exertions. For a moment he couldn't catch his breath, but then he did. Reaching out, he gathered the girl who had just given him such pleasure into his strong arms. To his distress Alix began to weep. She huddled against his chest, sobbing and sobbing and sobbing. Disturbed, he asked, "Did I hurt you? You should have told me! I said I would not harm you, lambkin."

Hearing the distress in his voice, Alix quickly reassured him. "Nay, my lord. It was wonderful! I did not know! I never imagined! Now at last I am beginning to understand my mother's love for my father, the queen's devotion to the king." She hiccupped, and her sobs began to abate.

He kissed the top of her head, relieved, and stroked her long hair as much to soothe himself as to soothe her. There was that elusive fragrance of hers again teasing at his nostrils. "I gave you pleasure," he said simply. "I am glad."

"Will we lie together every night now?" Alix asked him shyly.

"Except those nights when your moonlink is broken," he told her. "I am going to move you into the bedchamber next to mine. It is larger, and there is a connecting door to my chamber. We are less apt to attract my daughter's attention that way. You must be no less attentive to Fiona now that you are mine," he said.

"Never, my lord! I love the child," Alix answered him.

"Colm," he said. "I am not your lord when we lay together. I am Colm, and you are my Alix," the laird responded. "Let me hear my name upon your lips, sweet Alix."

"Malcolm, my dear lord," she said softly. "Colm! And again, Colm!"

He laughed joyously, and Alix realized that she had never before heard him utter such a happy sound. In fact, he was laughing and smiling more of late than anytime since she had come to Dunglais. "I will leave you now, my lambkin," he said. "And you will no longer be afraid of the coupling, will you?"

"Nay, I will not, Colm," she promised him.

He arose from her bed and wrapped the length of plaid about him. Then, bending, the laird kissed her and bid her a good night. Unbarring the door, he departed, and Alix lay awake for some minutes reliving the first passion she had ever known. The passion she had shared with Malcolm Scott. She had been so afraid although she had concealed it well, she knew. While she had enjoyed his kisses and his hands upon her body when he had mounted her, she had waited in silent terror for the cruel pain that would shortly tear into her. But there had been no pain. None at all! He had used her gently and he had given her the first pleasure she had ever received from a man.

She wept again briefly as she considered how sad it was that her husband could not have given her that pleasure. That he could not have loved her as sweetly as Malcolm Scott had made love to her.

And Alix wondered if Hayle Watteson had not hated her for not being his beloved Maida, would their marriage have been a fruitful and happy one? But he had hated her, and there was no changing the past.

But there was the future to consider. She was lying with a man not her husband. She had agreed to be his mistress. Alix knew that both her mother and the queen would have been shocked, would have been disappointed by her behavior. But if she had not allowed the laird to become her lover she would have never known the delights of passion. And tonight, Alix suspected, was but the beginning of her education in the amatory arts. Tonight the laird had opened the door for her, and Alix found that despite the less than suitable situation in which she found herself, she was eager to know what else lay on the other side of that wonderful door. Had Hayle Watteson been an exception to the rule? Were all men like Malcolm Scott? She didn't care as long as she might be in his arms, his delicious kisses rendering her dizzy with delight.

The following day the servants moved her few small belongings into the bedchamber next to the laird's. When Fiona asked why, for she was a curious child, the laird told her it was because then Alix would be closer to her, for Fiona's bedchamber was on the other side of the laird's.

"We shall be like three little buglets all in a snug row," Alix added.

"I like that!" Fiona enthused and Alix actually felt a tiny twinge of guilt for beguiling her small charge.

The border was quiet that year, and as the summer waned the Laird of Dunglais found his lust for Alix Givet burning brighter with each day. It was not enough that he shared her bed each night now. They rode out one day alone while Fiona remained behind with Fenella, learning how to stuff a mattress, an absolute necessity for any lady, Alix assured her, and the housekeeper agreed.

On a hillside Alix and the laird sat watching his cattle grazing peacefully. She lay back and looked up at the sky, where clouds scudded back and forth sometimes blocking the sunlight, sometimes letting it blaze bright down upon them. She saw the lust in his eyes as he looked down upon her and held open her arms to him. In no time at all Alix found her skirts about her waist and her lover vigorously fucking her. Her legs about his torso, she ran her nails down his broad back as he brought her quickly to pleasure and then did it again as her cries echoed about them.

"I did not know you could share passion on a hillside," she told him.

"Passion can be shared at any time, in any place," he assured her.

He proved the point again several days later when he found Alix in the stables brushing her mare's roan coat to a fine shine. Standing behind her, he played with her breasts as she worked and her breath began to come in quick pants. Then, as there was no one about, he put her down upon her back on a fat bale of fresh hay and entered her.

"I am your stallion," he told her as he used her vigorously, and then he put his hand over her mouth to stifle her cries, for her arousal was very great.

"You are a wicked man," she said afterwards, but she was smiling.

He laughed at her admonishment. "You enjoyed it every bit as much as I did," he teased her wickedly, pulling a bit of straw from her hair.

In early autumn a rider came to Dunglais wearing the badge of Queen Marie. The directive he bore commanded the Laird of Dunglais to come to her castle of Ravenscraig in Fife as soon as possible. The laird send the queen's man back with a message saying he would be honored to wait upon her and would bring his little daughter to meet Queen Marie. "You will come with us," he told Alix as they lay abed that same night.

"You would bring your mistress to meet the queen?" she asked him, slightly shocked. "I am not certain that is right, my lord."

"You are my daughter's companion and a former member of Margaret of Anjou's household," the laird said. "I would hardly introduce you as my mistress. But Fiona will need you, and it is an excellent opportunity for her to see how she needs to behave among her own kind. And meeting Queen Marie may be of benefit to you, lambkin."

"Then it is fortunate that I have just made two new gowns from the material you gave me at Michaelmas," Alix responded. She had to admit it. She was excited about going to court, but of course there would not necessarily be a court such as the one she had grown up in around the Scot's queen mother, her young son, the king, and his siblings. And they were going to Marie of Gueldres's own castle, not Stirling or Edinburgh, or even Falklands.

"How long are we to be gone?" Alix asked the earl.

"I cannot say, but I doubt it will be long. There is no reason for the queen to desire my company unless it has something to do with guns," Malcolm Scott said. "And we will want to be back again before the weather turns."

"I must have a few days to prepare," Alix said. "I am not certain Fiona has the proper garments. She's a country lass. Her clothing is reflective of her simple life."

"This won't be the court as you know it," the laird responded. "Ravenscraig is the queen's private home. Jamie bought it for her the year he died, and set his royal stone mason, Henry Martzioun, to make the repairs needed and fortify it."

"Nonetheless you can hardly allow your daughter to meet the king's mother looking like a tinker's brat," Alix told him. "You do not know who will be with the queen, or who will see your child. Remember you will eventually have to make a match for Fiona. As your heiress she will be considered to have a certain value. But if she displays well, her value will increase, my lord."

"God's foot, lass!" the laird exclaimed. "Your years at court have taught you well. Three days, and no more."

Fiona was beside herself with excitement. "I am going to meet the queen!" she singsonged over and over again as she danced about her father's hall. "Will I meet the king too, Alix? Will I?" she asked, twirling about the older girl.

"Stand still, you little minx!" Fenella said irritably. "How am I to take your measurements if you persist in prancing about? You can't meet Queen Marie in your chemise, lass."

"Fiona! Do what you are told," Alix said sharply.

The little girl suddenly stood quiet. "I'm sorry, Alix, Fenella. I am just so excited to be going to court."

"It isn't really court," Alix explained. "We are going to visit the queen in her own home. She wishes to speak with your father on some unknown matter. He is taking us so you may meet the king's mother. And aye. You may meet the young king."

"Does he have brothers and sisters?" Fiona wanted to know. "I've always wanted brothers and sisters, but unless Da will take another wife I don't suppose I'll ever have them," she said with a sigh.

"But if your da remarried and had a son, you would no longer be the heiress to Dunglais," Alix said to the little girl.