The Kadin - Bertrice Small [178]
“Yes, m’lady,” he grinned at her.
“Arrogant ape,” she chuckled at him. “I mean it Now, let’s race! My Devil Wind against your Thunderer!”
Both horses surged forward. Neither rider saw the lone horseman on the hill above them. He had been there several times in the last few weeks, but so secure were Janet and her nephew in the safety of their own land, they had not noticed.
“I think,” said the master of Grayhaven to his horse, “that it is time I paid a visit to Glenkirk.”
42
HAD ANNE LESLTE not been so openly interfering of Janet, and constantly annoyed that the sister-in-law she had expected to be old, and poverty-stricken, was, instead, a beautiful and wealthy woman, Janet might not have taken such pains with her appearance that night Her late entrance into the Great Hall at the dinner hour momentarily stopped all conversation.
She wore a velvet gown of forest green, its low-cut bodice embroidered in gold thread, tiny topaz, and pearls. On her head was a green velvet cap edged in gold lace and pearls with a soft gold gauze veil that flowed behind her, covering her pale red-gold hair. Around her slender neck she wore a magnificent rope of creamy pearls.
Adam rushed from the dais to lead his sister to the main table where Anne barely nodded to her greeting of “Good even, sister.” But before she could be seated, Adam was introducing her to his guest
“Janet this is Lord Hay, the master of Grayhaven.”
Automatically she extended her hand and raised her green-gold eyes to a pair of heavy-lidded leaf-green ones that lingered a moment too long on her décolletage.
“Colin!”
“So you remember.” He smiled. “You were but a wee bit of a little girl when we last met”
“And you a great gawky boy, my lord.”
Seating her, he drew his chair next to hers and offered Janet his goblet She drank sparingly, grimacing as she did.
“Aye,” he chuckled. “The lady Anne knows naught about wines.”
“A kind way of saying my dear sister-in-law keeps a poor table. In my father’s day we bought the best, but Anne buys what is least costly.”
“You havena changed, my dear. You are as open as ever. It seems I remember a wee maid at court who fought the beauteous Lady Gordon over that rogue, Lord Bothwell. What were you? Ten? Eleven?”
She laughed. “I dinna know ye were at court then. It was just before we sailed for San Lorenzo.”
“I was a squire to my cousin, the earl of Enroll. I was in the Great Hall that night you fought wi’ the Gordon woman. It was talked of for months after, and then when you were lost, it was talked of again.”
“I wasna lost, my lord Hay. I was stolen from my family and sold into slavery. I was fortunate enough to be married to a great lord, and have lived a good life.” She said it simply and with dignity. “Of course, you married too, did ye not?”
“Three times—once I got over the disappointment of losing you.”
“What?”
“I admired ye greatly, and my father thought he might be able to talk to your father and arrange a match between us. But alas! Before he could, ye went away to San Lorenzo and never returned.”
“So instead ye wed three wives and outlived them all. I consider myself lucky to hae escaped ye, my lord. What of yer children?”
“Only three living, though there were several started that died. I hae two sons and a daughter who is a nun. And your
“I bore my lord four sons, two of whom were killed in wars. Only the eldest, and the youngest live. I also hae a daughter. I left nine grandchildren behind. And then, of course, I have Charles’s two here.”
His eyes again caressed the soft swell of her breasts. “I find it hard to believe ye are a grandmother, let alone to eleven brats.”
“Ye are overbold, my lord.”
“As are you, madame. If ye dinna want yer breasts admired, ye shouldna display them so openly. I should, however, like to see more.”
She flushed and to cover her embarrassment bit into a chicken wing. “I wore this dress,” she said quietly between bites, “to annoy Anne.”
“Ye’ve succeeded admirably, my dear. She’s not stopped looking daggers at you since you made