Tudor 08 - Three Sisters, Three Queens by Philippa Gregory

Author:Philippa Gregory
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

I love him for his pride and for his sense of honor. I get up at dawn with him and watch him dress in his old worn breeches. “Here!” I say. “At least take these shirts.” I give him half a dozen fine linen shirts, beautifully hand-sewn and trimmed with lace.

“Where did you get these?” he demands, drawing one over his lean back.

“I commandeered them from Lord Dacre,” I confess. “He was most unwilling but he can get more made for himself, and you should have nothing but the best.”

He laughs shortly and pulls on his old riding boots. “Do you get enough to eat?” I demand. “Where do you sleep?”

“I stay with other outlaws in their castles and forts all along the border,” he answers. “Sometimes I sleep rough, under the sky, but usually I know a friend, someone loyal to your cause, who will take the risk of having me under their roof. Sometimes I even get back near to Tantallon, where everyone would risk their lives to give me a bed for the night.”

I know that Janet Stewart would open the doors of Traquair to him. But I won’t mention her name.

“Do you need money?” I ask eagerly.

“Money would help,” he says wryly. “I have to buy arms and clothes and food for those who ride with me, and I like to pay for my hospitality, especially when the people are poor.”

I go to my chest. “Here,” I say. “Dacre gave me this from my brother, for my benevolences on the way. He can give me more. Take it all.”

He weighs the purse in his hand. “Gold?”

“Yes,” I say. “And take this too.”

I open my treasure box and take out a long chain of gold links. “You can break it up and sell it as you need,” I say. “Take it, wear it around your neck and keep it safe.”

“This is worth a fortune,” he protests.

“You are worth a fortune to me,” I assure him. “Take it. And take these too.”

I find a handful of heavy gold coins at the bottom of the box.

“This is too much,” he says, but he lets me press the gold into his hands. “My wife, you are good to me.”

“I would do so much more for you if I could,” I swear. “When I come home to Scotland you will have half the kingdom for your own. Ard, keep safe. Be true to me.”

He bends his knee and bows his head for my blessing, then he rises up and takes me in his arms. I close my eyes, inhaling the smell of him, adoring him. I would give him the rings off my fingers, I would give him the jewels from my hair, I would promise him the world.

“Come back to me,” I whisper.

“Of course,” he says.

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