Jo Beverley - [Malloren 03] (34 page)

Feeling like guilty children, they slipped away and ran upstairs hand-in-hand to her room. By her orders it was well-heated by a leaping fire, and even this early, her bed was turned down invitingly.

“I never asked if you wanted a wedding journey.” He leaned back against the door as he had the evening before. “I must warn you, my lady fair, I have come here to seduce you.”

“I know. You’re wearing satin breeches.”

He laughed, glowing and flushing with it. Or perhaps with embarrassed lust.

Despite their impatience, it took time to extract her from the layers of formal clothing. It took less time to strip him of his. They stood naked in winter sunlight and she reached up to tug off his ribbon and set his hair free.

“There. That is how I like to see you. Though black silk is appealing, too.”

“If I please you, I am delighted.” He took her hand and twirled her, as if in a dance. “Do you realize that I’ve never seen your naked body before? It is perfect.”

“You’re blinded by love, sir.”

“Indeed I am. But it is perfect. Golden hair in interesting places. It flatters the sun. Will you dance in the summer sun for me, out in the woods where elves belong?”

Now she was blushing at the thought. “Perhaps, if you dance naked with me.”

“ ‘I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows . . .” ’ Perhaps it was
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
all along.”

Elf tugged him over and down onto the waiting bed. “No, it was always something wicked. Show me. Show me something else. Something wonderfully, deliciously wicked . . .”

It’s scary, really, how these things work out.

I can’t remember quite why I decided to weave the Stone of Scone into this story, but probably the only reason I was particularly aware of it was a dim memory of its theft by Scottish Nationalists back in the 1950s. (I was a small child at the time. Honestly!)

As I wrote the book, it did seem interesting to me that there was a link with
Braveheart
, which was proving so popular. I was surprised and excited, however, when not long after sending the finished novel to my publisher, I opened the paper to see the headline
STONE OF SCONE HEADING HOME
.

My rather whimsical plot line had suddenly become one of relevant current interest!

The Stone of Scone, as you will have gathered, has been of almost mystical significance to the Scottish people for over a millennium, but especially since it was stolen from them by Edward I of England in 1296—yes, the wicked old king in
Braveheart.
(In fact, you could say that the theft incited Sir William Wallace to lead the revolt against English control of his homeland.)

The stone had been used in the coronation of Scottish kings since at least the ninth century, and it was said that the stone groaned if a true king sat upon it, but stayed silent otherwise. The injury to Scottish pride was made worse, therefore, when Edward had the stone put into a chair used in the English coronations.

Wallace was defeated at the Battle of Falkirk, and executed in 1305, but his struggles were continued by
Robert the Bruce, then King of Scotland. When Edward I died in 1307, his son succeeded him (only then marrying Isabelle of France, by the way), and began to lose England’s hold on Scotland. The English army was resoundingly defeated by the Scots under Bruce at the Battle of Bannockburn in 1314. In 1328, at the Treaty of Northhampton, the English recognized Bruce as King of Scotland, gave up their claim to feudal supremacy, and promised to return the stone.

The promise, however, was never kept.

In fact, this Scottish success proved transitory, and civil war in Scotland between Bruce and Balliol almost let England win. However, in 1342, Robert the Bruce’s son took hold of his country and established Scottish independence. It would only be the linked bloodlines in the sixteenth century that would lead to the joining of Scotland and England under one monarch.

However, the Stone of Scone, or the Stone of Destiny as many Scots prefer to call it, would only return to Scotland once. This was in the 1950s when some Scottish students managed to steal it from Westminster Abbey one Christmas morning and get it back across the border.

It was soon found and returned, but in the meantime, it had been broken. The students asked a Glasgow builder to mend it. Shortly before his death, this man claimed that the stone returned was not the real one but an imitation. The students denied that. There is always the possibility, however, that the real Stone of Destiny is still hidden somewhere in Scotland, its location known only to a few honored Scottish nationalists.

Whatever the truth of that, British Prime Minister John Major has promised that the slab of sandstone currently sitting beneath the throne in Westminster Abbey will be sent back to Scotland.

True to form, however, the Scots are feuding about it. Some of them want it returned to Scone Palace, which is near the ruined abbey that once housed it. Others
want it to be placed in Edinburgh Castle, Scotland’s premier tourist attraction.

Wherever it ends up, it will be returned to London for coronations. I wonder if it groans?

Sounds a little like a medieval whoopee cushion, really, doesn’t it?

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s Imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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