Read Just Beyond Tomorrow Online
Authors: Bertrice Small
Just Beyond Tomorrow (14 page)
There was a deep silence again, and Flanna could see the two men were becoming maudlin with their memories, encouraged by the castle's good wine. She arose from her husband's lap. “My lords, the servants are bringing in the supper, and cook will be greatly offended if you dinna do justice to his fine meal.” She led them to the high board and sat between them. “I will serve the gentlemen,” she told the attending servant, and then she filled the pewter plates from the platters and dishes offered, handing the first to their guest, the second to her husband, and keeping a third plate for herself.
It was a simple meal with only a few dishes. There was broiled trout, a venison stew with a rich, winey gravy, slices of leek and carrots, a platter of roasted quails stuffed with dried fruits, a half ham, creamed onions, boiled beets, a bowl of tiny lettuces lightly braised in white wine, a large round loaf, still warm from the ovens, a crock of sweet butter, and a small wheel of hard cheese. The men ate heartily, and their goblets were kept well filled by Angus, who oversaw all. A fresh-baked apple tartlet with heavy cream completed the meal.
Charles Frederick Stuart pushed back his plate with a sigh of contentment. “Madame,” he said to Flanna, “you are every bit as good a chatelaine as all the ladies who have come before you here at Glenkirk. 'Twas a very fine meal, indeed. The best I have eaten in many a month, I vow.”
“I would imagine it stands well in comparison to boiled cabbage and salted fish,” Flanna replied dryly. Then she arose. “I must go and see that the bairns are settled comfortably, my lords.” Then she left them.
“She's not at all what I expected the next Duchess of Glenkirk to be,” the Duke of Lundy told his brother. “Still, she is a good lass, I can tell, if a bit outspoken.”
“Ye were too comfortable wi' yer sweet Bess,” Patrick Leslie answered his brother. “Outspoken women are nae an oddity in this family, big brother. I think Flanna fits in quite well.”
“Why did you wed her?” Charlie queried. “You could have done a helluva lot better than the Brodie of Killiecairn's red-haired daughter. You're a duke as well as an earl, Patrick. You could have had a great heiress for Glenkirk. You surely don't love her.”
“When Mother left she said to take a wife to get heirs on for Glenkirk,” Patrick Leslie explained to his elder sibling. “I dinna know any
suitable
women. Christ, Charlie, ye know I hae hardly ever left Glenkirk. When our parents were yet here it always seemed as if there was time. Endless time, and we would all go on forever wi'out changing. Then I was alone. I decided I wanted Brae lands for Glenkirk. The only way I could obtain them was to marry Flanna. Her old father would nae take gold, and believe me, I offered him an outrageous amount. I needed a wife, and Flanna was a virgin wi' a property I desired and could obtain only one way. Our marriage served a purpose, Charlie. It gave the old Brodie of Killiecairn what he wanted, and it gave me what I wanted.
Brae.”
suitable
women. Christ, Charlie, ye know I hae hardly ever left Glenkirk. When our parents were yet here it always seemed as if there was time. Endless time, and we would all go on forever wi'out changing. Then I was alone. I decided I wanted Brae lands for Glenkirk. The only way I could obtain them was to marry Flanna. Her old father would nae take gold, and believe me, I offered him an outrageous amount. I needed a wife, and Flanna was a virgin wi' a property I desired and could obtain only one way. Our marriage served a purpose, Charlie. It gave the old Brodie of Killiecairn what he wanted, and it gave me what I wanted.
Brae.”
“And what did Flanna want, little brother?”
Patrick Leslie laughed. “To be left alone at Brae wi' her two servants, so she might run wild. Still, she is adapting well to life at Glenkirk, for all her rough upbringing. She is always eager to learn and desires nothing more now than to be a proper lady.”
“And give you heirs,” his brother said with a chuckle. “She told me that herself. Does she enjoy bedsport?”
Patrick Leslie actually blushed. “Aye,” he mumbled.
“Enthusiastic, is she, then?” Charlie teased. “Ahh, you're a lucky man. A woman can be taught many things. To be a lady. To appreciate fine art and jewels. To dance and to keep the household accounts. But she cannot be taught to be enthusiastic in her passion. That must come naturally as you well know. Perhaps your Flanna will be a suitable, if unconventional, duchess, dear brother. She is certainly quite a beauty with that hair and skin. What color are her eyes?”
“Gray,” Patrick Leslie said. “Sometimes like a storm cloud, and other times like silver. It depends on her mood.”
Charlie chortled. “If you've noticed that, Patrick, then perhaps 'tis more than her lands that are of interest to you now.”
“She is a pleasing lassie,” came the reply. Patrick could feel his cheeks flushing again with his brother's remark.
Charlie laughed all the harder. “Could it be, Patrick Leslie, that you are falling in love? And for the first time, too! God's blood, how Henry will himself laugh when I see him again and tell him!”
“I'm nae in love wi' her,” the Duke of Glenkirk denied. “I will nae ever love a woman. Loving but leads to pain, Charlie. Mother loved Father, but he would nae heed her warning and got himself killed needlessly. Ye loved yer Bess so much that her death hae made ye reckless, and yer foolish actions will probably end in yer death, too. India and Fortune loved, too; but India almost lost her firstborn because of her love; and Fortune's love hae cost her Maguire's Ford, and she is exiled from our family forever. Nay, I shall nae love, brother.”
“Mother had many happy years with our father,” Charlie retorted. “India did not lose her son and found her happiness with Deverall. Fortune loved Kieran Devers so much she was willing to leave Ireland and go to the New World with him. As for me, I am the son of a royal Stuart. That family welcomed me from my birth and always treated me with loving kindness. I could not sit on the fence forever in this matter between king and parliament, Patrick. Bess's death but forced me to my decision. A decision I would have made sooner or later. To love is a gift from God. I hope someday you will realize that and allow yourself to love. Flanna appears to be a warmhearted girl. I did not notice you objecting when she sat herself in your lap earlier.”
“I am fond of her as I am of my dogs and cats,” was the reply.
“Then, you're a fool, Patrick,” his brother told him.
Flanna reentered the hall then, saying, “Yer bairns are settled, my lord, but they would verra much like it if ye would go and bid them good night. The lassie is fretting herself that ye will leave them wi'out saying farewell. Ye must reassure her that ye intend remaining at Glenkirk until ye must go down to Perth to meet the king. Surely ye and my husband hae argued yerselves out by now.”
Charles Frederick Stuart arose from the high board with a lazy smile. “Aye, for tonight, we have, eh, Patrick? He's a great fool, madame, but I expect you already know that.” Then, with a bow, the Duke of Lundy left the Great Hall of Glenkirk.
“What did he mean, ye're a great fool?” Flanna asked her husband.
“He believes I will endanger the family more by nae declaring for the king than by asserting my loyalty to the royal Stuarts. I hold that my neutrality serves us better. That is all, lassie,” Patrick lied.
“Come by the fire,” she invited. “I would sit wi' ye again, my lord, and perhaps seduce ye a wee bit.” She smiled at him and held out her hand to him.
For a moment he felt guilty, remembering his words to his brother that he would never love, but then he stood up and joined her. Flanna was his wife whether he loved her or not. Sitting down, he pulled her into his lap, kissing the ripe red mouth she offered him. She was so very tempting, and becoming more so as each day passed, it seemed to him.
But he was not in love with her.
She murmured and pressed against him, her lips softening beneath his, opening for him, her tongue, now outrageously skillful, wreaking merry havoc with his senses. He pulled his dark head away from her and ran his thumb along her mouth.
But he was not in love with her.
She murmured and pressed against him, her lips softening beneath his, opening for him, her tongue, now outrageously skillful, wreaking merry havoc with his senses. He pulled his dark head away from her and ran his thumb along her mouth.
Flanna's eyes, glittering silver fire, but half opened. Gently she bit his thumb, then sucked it into her mouth with a purr.
“Ye're a shameless lass,” he murmured as his other hand slid beneath her petticoats and began to stroke her thigh. True to her Highland upbringing, she wore no drawers.
A lady would hae worn drawers,
he thought, but he didn't want her to ever become that much of a lady. His fingers tangled themselves into the thatch of tight curls springing from her Venus mons. Her slit was moist with her rising ardor. “Shameless,” he repeated, and he pushed two fingers past her nether lips, stroking her little jewel until she squirmed her bottom against his tightening crotch, sucking all the harder on his thumb before he pulled it away from her. His fingers slid into her wet sheath, moving back and forth with intense rhythm until she was gasping with her passion. Leaning over, he nipped her earlobe, and whispered to her, “Tell me ye want me, Flanna! Tell me ye want my cock deep inside of ye, gieing us both the pleasure we crave.
Tell me!”
A lady would hae worn drawers,
he thought, but he didn't want her to ever become that much of a lady. His fingers tangled themselves into the thatch of tight curls springing from her Venus mons. Her slit was moist with her rising ardor. “Shameless,” he repeated, and he pushed two fingers past her nether lips, stroking her little jewel until she squirmed her bottom against his tightening crotch, sucking all the harder on his thumb before he pulled it away from her. His fingers slid into her wet sheath, moving back and forth with intense rhythm until she was gasping with her passion. Leaning over, he nipped her earlobe, and whispered to her, “Tell me ye want me, Flanna! Tell me ye want my cock deep inside of ye, gieing us both the pleasure we crave.
Tell me!”
“Nay,” she taunted him.
“Ye tell me!
I am content as we are, but I think ye're nae so content. Ahhhhh! I can feel yer naughty laddie struggling to escape the confines of yer trews, my lord.
Do ye want me, Patrick Leslie? Do ye?
Ohhhhhhhh! Dinna take them out!”
“Ye tell me!
I am content as we are, but I think ye're nae so content. Ahhhhh! I can feel yer naughty laddie struggling to escape the confines of yer trews, my lord.
Do ye want me, Patrick Leslie? Do ye?
Ohhhhhhhh! Dinna take them out!”
“Oh, bitch,” he growled, struggling to undo the fastenings that kept his hot desire in check. Successful, he lifted Flanna a moment from his lap and then slowly lowered her onto his raging lover's lance, groaning as he encased himself in her throbbing warmth. His fingers tore at the laces of her gown, pulling them open, ripping her chemise to reveal her delicious breasts. He groaned again.
She laughed softly, slipping her arms about his neck and leaning back so he might avail himself of her bounty. “There, my lord. All for ye, and nae other. Ohh, aye! 'Tis lovely,” she exclaimed as he began to lick at her nipples with long, sweeping strokes of his tongue. “Ummmmm,” she sighed with delight as his touch sent waves of shivers down her spine. It was too delicious, and she was heedless that someone might come into the Great Hall so deep was her pleasure.
Charles Frederick Stuart stood in the shadows of the entry to the hall waiting until his sibling and the passionate Flanna had completed their little bout of Eros. He would not have come back at all except he had absolutely no idea where he was to sleep this night. Charlie smiled to himself, thinking that Patrick might not realize it, but he was already in love with his beautiful wife, and she with him. No two people could sustain lust like theirs for several months' time without feeling some tender emotion toward one another. He wondered if either of these innocents knew or understood that. Eventually one of them was going to realize what had happened, and then . . . He chuckled softly to himself. What a discovery it was going to be.
Flanna cried out softly with her crisis even as Patrick groaned as if he were in pain. She fell against him, and his arms closed about her. There they remained for several minutes until Flanna suddenly straightened up with a gasp.
“Ohh, Patrick! Yer brother doesna know where he is to sleep this night. He will surely be coming back into the hall!” She struggled to draw the torn halves of her chemise together, crying, “Oh, lace up my gown, my lord, before we are caught in such a state. Surely yer brother would be shocked by our impetuous behavior.” She attempted to smooth her hair into a semblance of order.
Her husband laughed low, his skillful fingers doing up her gown as he spoke. “Charlie is a Stuart, lassie, and the Stuarts are given to deep and quick passions. More likely he will tease us if he catches us this way. There, lassie, ye're done. Would ye like to return the favor.” He leered at her as she slipped from his embrace.
Flanna looked down at her husband's manhood, now limp and shriveled with its recent exercise. Reaching out, she caressed him. Then she said, “Perhaps it would be best for ye to do it yerself, Patrick.”
Charlie waited a few more moments until his brother's garb was neatened, and then he came loudly into the hall. “Well, the bairns are well settled, and I thank you both. Now, however, you must tell me where I am supposed to sleep, dear sister-in-law.”
“Of course, my lord,” Flanna answered him primly. “If ye will follow me, I will see ye settled comfortably.” Her tone was the very model of the proper wife, not at all that of the lustful woman he had just observed.
Charlie reached out and caught at an errant tendril of Flanna's red-gold hair. “As comfortable as you had my brother settled but a few moments back, madame?” he teased her, simply unable to resist.
Flanna was at first shocked, then astounded by his words. She felt her cheeks burning, but looking at her mischievous brother-in-law directly in his dancing amber eyes, she said calmly, “Well, perhaps nae quite as comfortably, my lord, but ye will be verra cozy. We hae wonderful featherbeds and down comforters.”
Charles Frederick Stuart burst out laughing, and turning, he winked broadly at his brother. “If she wasn't yours, Patrick, I could easily love this Duchess of Glenkirk,” he said. “Remember what I told you earlier, and don't play the fool for too long. You could lose all if you do.” Then he turned back to Flanna. “Lead on, madame. I long for this promised cozy bedding, although I will wager my bed will not be nearly as comfortable as my brother's tonight.” Then, laughing, he followed her out of the hall.
Chapter
7
7
T
he Duke of Lundy remained with his brother until after
he Duke of Lundy remained with his brother until after
Christmas. It was during that time that he told Flanna stories of their mother's family. How the mother-in-law Flanna had yet to meet, might never meet, was born an imperial Mughal princess in a land halfway around the world from Glenkirk in a place called India.
“Her name was Yasamin Kama Begum,” Charlie told his wide-eyed sister-in-law. “Yasamin means Jasmine flower. Kama was her land's word for
love,
and Begum was a princess. Our grandmother, Velvet Gordon, the Countess of BrocCairn, believing her husband dead in a duel, had gone out to India to meet her parents, who were there in the interests of their trading company. She was kidnapped and given to India's ruler to be one of his wives.” Charlie was deliberately keeping his story, which was a great deal more complicated, simple; because he knew that Flanna, unsophisticated and naïve to the world beyond her Highlands, would not otherwise understand.
love,
and Begum was a princess. Our grandmother, Velvet Gordon, the Countess of BrocCairn, believing her husband dead in a duel, had gone out to India to meet her parents, who were there in the interests of their trading company. She was kidnapped and given to India's ruler to be one of his wives.” Charlie was deliberately keeping his story, which was a great deal more complicated, simple; because he knew that Flanna, unsophisticated and naïve to the world beyond her Highlands, would not otherwise understand.
“One of his wives?”
Flanna was more curious than shocked. “How many did he hae?”
Flanna was more curious than shocked. “How many did he hae?”
Charlie laughed. “Forty! Our imperial grandfather lived in a world where a man might have many wives. Most of them had been wed to him for political reasons. To end a conflict or to seal a treaty,” he explained. Then he continued on with his tale. “Then our grandmother learned her husband had not been killed in his duel. But by then our princess mother had been born. Grandmama wanted to remain in India, but our grandfather would not do anything to bring dishonor upon his name. She was returned to England and to the Earl of BrocCairn. Our mother, however, remained with her father in India. No one but our great-grandparents even knew of mother's existence until she arrived in London in the winter of sixteen hundred and six. Her father was dead. Her first husband had been murdered. She was forced to flee her homeland. She came to our great-grandmother, Madame Skye, for safety.”
“I hae heard mention of this Madame Skye since I came to Glenkirk,” Flanna said. “Was she as fabulous as they say? Even now they speak of her. Yet she was an old woman when she visited, I am told.”
“She was born in Ireland,” Charlie began anew. “She lived through the reigns of two monarchs. She knew both the Great Elizabeth and our own King James. She sparred with Queen Bess and, I am told, got the best of her, although in the end the Queen's will prevailed, of course. She had six husbands, and she outlived them all. She bore eight children, seven of whom lived. She built a great trading empire that enriched us all and continues to do so today. She made it her duty to see to her family's happiness and safety until the day she died. In her old age she killed a man to protect our mother. Put a dagger right into his heart.”
Flanna gasped. “She was an old fierce lady, was she nae? 'Tis good to know my bairns will hae such strong blood in their veins.”
“Your husband's family had a matriarch every bit Madame Skye's equal,” Charlie replied. “The portrait of the young girl above the fireplace here in the hall. She was the daughter of the first earl, and she went with her father to a little kingdom called San Lorenzo. The first Patrick Leslie was King James IV's ambassador to that city-state. Janet Leslie was wed to the heir of San Lorenzo, but she was kidnapped by Turkish pirates and somehow ended up in the Turkish sultan's harem.”
“She was a
kadin,”
Patrick took up the story his brother had begun. “That was the word they used for a favorite. When she gave this sultan his first son, she was elevated to the status of a
bas-kadin,
or favorite first wife. Her descendants rule in that place to this day. Her youngest son she sent back to Scotland to be raised, and then when her husband had died, she returned herself. It was she who obtained the Earldom of Sithean for that branch of the family, her direct descendants. We here at Glenkirk descend from Janet's brother, Adam.”
kadin,”
Patrick took up the story his brother had begun. “That was the word they used for a favorite. When she gave this sultan his first son, she was elevated to the status of a
bas-kadin,
or favorite first wife. Her descendants rule in that place to this day. Her youngest son she sent back to Scotland to be raised, and then when her husband had died, she returned herself. It was she who obtained the Earldom of Sithean for that branch of the family, her direct descendants. We here at Glenkirk descend from Janet's brother, Adam.”
“Imperial emperors and sultans!” Flanna exclaimed. “I hae never heard of such men before now. I am surprised ye would wed so humble a lass as a Brodie of Killiecairn, my lord.”
“But ye hae Brae, lassie, and I wanted it,” he replied bluntly.
It was a cruel remark. While Patrick didn't, Charlie did see the quick look of hurt that passed over Flanna's face. It was gone, however, as swiftly as it had appeared.
“Not all of our relations are royal or lordly,” the Duke of Lundy said in an effort to smooth over the moment. “Madame Skye's two eldest sons were certainly not. One inherited the small bit of land his father had possessed in Ireland. The other was a sea captain out of Devon. Madame Skye's eldest daughter was the child of a Spanish merchant in Algiers. Her second daughter and youngest son were the children of the Irish Lord Burke, who was landless and certainly without any influence.”
“But how did Madame Skye become a lady?” Flanna wondered.
“It was her third husband, the Earl of Lynmouth, who was responsible for elevating her into the ranks of lords and ladies. It was then she was introduced into the queen's glittering court. Her husband gave a masquerade each Twelfth Night that was the talk of London in its day. The queen always attended it, and not just for a few ceremonial moments, but for the entire night. To obtain an invitation to the Earl of Lynmouth's masque was considered quite a coup. You had arrived socially if you went.”
“And their son continued the tradition,” Patrick said. “Mother caused a scandal wi' Father at one of those masques.”
“How?”
Patrick chuckled. “She was caught abed wi' him after the guests hae gone home. It was our Aunt Sybilla who found them and raised a merry hue and cry over it. Our aunt, ye see, hae been brought up at BrocCairn. She was my grandfather's bastard, whom he legitimized. Our grandmother hae raised Aunt Sybilla as her own. She was fiercely jealous of Mother when they first met and hae planned to ensnare our father for herself. She was furious to discover him wi' our mother and caused a great havoc.”
“So it was then yer parents were wed,” Flanna said.
Patrick chuckled again. “Nay. Mother would nae hae Father under such circumstances. Despite the fact the situation was compromising, she refused to be forced into marriage wi' him, or hae him forced to the altar. So, Madame Skye hae her wed to Rowan Lindley, the Marquis of Westleigh, who was already in love wi' Mother. When several years later he was killed in Ireland, Mother would allow nae one to make a match for her. Charlie's father became enamored of her, and she wi' him; but Prince Henry died shortly after Charlie's birth. It was then old King James and his queen, meaning well, ordered Mother to marry Father. Instead, she ran away to France wi' her bairns. And it was almost two years before Father caught up wi her, and they reconciled. It was then they were wed and came home to Glenkirk.”
“But,” added Charlie, “the old king had made a muddle of the whole situation and half promised Mother to another man as well. When Mother married Father that fellow was furious. He sought to destroy them. He did not, of course, but instead was sought for a murder he had committed and attempted to blame on the Leslies of Glenkirk. He disappeared, only to show up again and threaten Mother's life.”
“And that was when yer Madame Skye killed him?” Flanna asked.
“Aye,” the two brothers said in unison.
Flanna was amazed. What kind of a family had she married into? Great rulers and lordlings. Incredible wealth. Women who were beautiful, adored, clever, sought after, and fought over by powerful men.
And then there was Flanna Brodie.
A Highland lass of absolutely no import; her value only in a small piece of land called Brae. She had seen the portrait of Janet Leslie over the fireplace; and in the portrait gallery of the castle the portrait of Patrick's mother, the fabled Jasmine; and his beautiful grandmother, Cat Leslie, who had defied a king to be with the man she loved. Who was Flanna Brodie when compared to these wise and wonderful women? She wanted to make her own mark at Glenkirk so that one day her portrait would hang in the family gallery, and her successors would say, “Ah, yes, and this is Flanna Leslie, wife to the second duke, who . . . Who what?” Flanna sighed deeply. What could she possibly do to make her mark?
And then there was Flanna Brodie.
A Highland lass of absolutely no import; her value only in a small piece of land called Brae. She had seen the portrait of Janet Leslie over the fireplace; and in the portrait gallery of the castle the portrait of Patrick's mother, the fabled Jasmine; and his beautiful grandmother, Cat Leslie, who had defied a king to be with the man she loved. Who was Flanna Brodie when compared to these wise and wonderful women? She wanted to make her own mark at Glenkirk so that one day her portrait would hang in the family gallery, and her successors would say, “Ah, yes, and this is Flanna Leslie, wife to the second duke, who . . . Who what?” Flanna sighed deeply. What could she possibly do to make her mark?
Over the next few days Flanna mothered her two little nephews and young niece. True to her word, she began to teach the elder children how to use a longbow. Sabrina Stuart was fascinated by the flame-haired woman who, she was discovering, was quite wonderful.
“I hit it! I hit it!” the little girl cried excitedly the first time her arrow found its mark in the straw butt set up in the castle's courtyard. Notching and letting fly another arrow, she once again found her target. “You have really taught me to do it,” she said, raising shining eyes to Flanna.
“Now ye must teach me to be a real lady in return,” Flanna replied, smiling down at the little girl. “Someday I might go to court, and I wouldna want to embarrass yer uncle wi' my rough manners.”
“Your manners are quite good,” Sabrina answered. “You speak with a funny accent, of course, but then you are not English. You are a Scot. The Lowlanders with cousin Charles have a little accent, but I understand them better. I do not like them, though. They are sourfaced and mean to the king. Still, King Charles is a gentleman, and he pretends not to notice.” Sabrina was quite mature for a girl of nine. “Cousin Charles has beautiful manners,” she continued. “I hae never seen him be unkind or rude to any, no matter their attitude to him. He does miss the ladies, though. There are few women with the court right now. Those that are there are dour and not at all to his taste. Cousin Charles likes me,” she confided to Flanna. “Papa says it is a good thing I am just a little girl or the king might take it into his head to seduce me. Papa says I will be very beautiful one day.”
“Pretty is only as pretty does,” Flanna heard herself quoting her sister-in-law, Una, “but aye, I think ye'll be verra pretty when ye're a grown lady, Brie.”
“How long are we to remain with you, Aunt Flanna?” the little girl asked. “Will we be here until the spring?”
“I dinna know, lassie,” Flanna answered honestly, stamping her booted feet to get a bit of warmth back into them. “Glenkirk will be yer home as long as ye need it to be.”
“I miss Mother, and I miss Queen's Malvern,” Sabrina said pensively. “I know Mother is dead, and gone from me, but I want to go home!” Tears sprang into her amber eyes. She was really, for all her sophisticated chatter, a little girl.
Flanna knelt and put comforting arms about the girl. “The way I understand it, Brie, there is a civil war in England. Ye canna go home until it is settled. Then, too, yer home was damaged and must be repaired. It will take time, lassie.” She stood again and, taking Sabrina's hand, led her back into the house, leaving Angus to watch over her nephew. “When the king goes home to England again, then ye can go home to England again, too.” A servant took their cloaks as they entered the hall. “Hot mulled cider for my lady Stuart,” the Duchess of Glenkirk ordered, “and wine for me.”
“If only Uncle Patrick would send his men to help the king, it would all be all right,” Brie said with perfect youthful logic. “Why won't he help the king, aunt?”
“Because the royal Stuarts seem to bring bad luck upon the Leslies of Glenkirk whenever they become involved wi' one another, or so ye uncle says,” Flanna explained. “Besides, it would take more men than Glenkirk could supply to help the king regain his throne in England,” she explained.
“I wish I were older,” Lady Sabrina Stuart said passionately. “Then I should go and raise up men for my cousin Charles!”
It was as if Flanna had been struck with a lightning bolt. Brie might not be old enough to help the king, but Flanna Leslie certainly was! This nonsense that Patrick kept nattering about bad fortune was just silly! There was no curse between the royal Stuarts and the Leslies of Glenkirk. This would be how she could make her mark among the Leslie women. She would be the Glenkirk duchess who helped King Charles II regain his throne, by traveling among the Highland clans and encouraging them to join their king in his righteous quest. First, however, she must meet the king. She had to be certain that he was worthy of her efforts, and she needed his permission.
But how?
But how?
Patrick would certainly not approve of her plans, Flanna knew, but this was something she knew she had to do. She was not some milk-and-water lass unable to act without her man's permission. Then the thought struck her. She could follow her brother-in-law, Charles Frederick Stuart, when he departed Glenkirk. That would be the easy part. Finding a way to cover her absence would be harder, but the trusting Aggie would unwittingly help her. Angus, she knew, would greatly disapprove. He might even attempt to stop her, but she would not be stopped.
She would trail the Duke of Lundy until he had reached Perth. Then she would reveal herself to him. Charlie would insist on sending her home, but she would refuse to go until she had met the king. After all, the Duke of Lundy could scarce bind his sister-in-law up hand and foot in order to control her. He wouldn't want to draw attention to her behavior. Yes! That was just what she would do. And if the king gave his permission, she would solicit men for him herself no matter her husband!
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