smile and a murmured apology to David, she turned and walked down the long hall, through the suffocating silence, and out the door.
Eleanor looked out over the sea of pale, curious faces. Her color was high, but she had been bred from birth to maintain composure at all costs. Raising her glass in salute, her voice rang out in a clear command. “Northumberland has proposed a toast. Drink, everyone.”
Dutifully, goblets were tilted. Everyone sat down, and conversation resumed. The queen spoke to the lord high chamberlain on her left and then turned toward her husband. “Find her, Edward,” she said through smiling lips. “Find that woman and take her away. I care not how long you dally, but never allow her to set foot in London again.”
Edward heard his wife’s voice through a fog of guilt. The look on Mairi’s face haunted him. By his enormous conceit, he had betrayed the one woman who had valued him as a man without the trappings of wealth and power. His actions were not honorable and the knowledge left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Have you nothing to say, Edward?” Eleanor’s grating words interrupted his thoughts. “No apologies, no remorse?”
His lips thinned. “Aye, my lady. I have much to say but none of it to you. However, I am most grateful for your understanding.” He stood and looked down at her, his eyes a distant, wintry blue. “I know you will forgive me for retiring early.”
Her face whitened. “You cannot be serious. Where are you going? What of the christening?”
“I shall return for the ceremony. Nothing else need concern you.”
“Don’t be a fool,” she began.
The stark rage in his expression stopped her. “I beg your pardon, Edward,” she whispered. “Godspeed.”
With a curt nod, he shouldered his way through the crowd, beckoning David Murray to follow him. Outside the hall, in the torch-lit darkness, he spoke directly, wasting no time on explanations. “Where can I find Mairi Maxwell?”
David frowned. “In her south tower apartments, Your Grace, but surely you know she meant no offense. She was taken ill,” he lied. “Mairi is a loyal subject, devoted to Your Grace.”
Edward grinned. “Is she now? She must have changed a great deal since I saw her last.”
“How do you know my betrothed?” David asked, surprised into rudeness. Immediately he realized his mistake. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” he stammered.
“Your betrothed?” Edward’s voice was dangerously soft. “I think not.”
“Indeed, ’tis true,” David assured him. “Mairi has finally agreed to our marriage. We came to London to request your permission.”
Edward’s expression would have frozen the fires of hell. From his superior height, he looked down at the earnest young man who dared lay claim to the woman he wanted. “I’m sorry, lad,” he said at last. “You are too late. Permission denied.”
Struck dumb with shock and confusion, David watched the king climb the stairs to the south tower.
Twenty-Seven
Edward didn’t bother to knock before throwing open the door. He heard her outraged gasp and from across the chamber saw the blazing fury in her eyes.
“Get out,” she ordered, pointing back to the hall from where he came.
“Lass.” He spread his hands in a gesture of supplication. “I did not intend for it to be this way.”
Without answering, she turned toward the window and folded her arms protectively against her chest. Edward swallowed and looked around the scented chamber. He needed whiskey, and there was none to be had. A servant cowered on her knees. He dismissed her, and she backed out of the room.
“Mairi,” he began and stopped. He had no words with which to defend himself. Nothing to save him but the truth. He could demand that she return to Scotland, of course. His peace of mind would be restored and his wife’s suspicions calmed. Tomorrow would dawn just as today had, without embarrassing complications. But was that really what he wanted?
Until an hour ago, Edward had believed that to be true. His tryst in the borders was his alone, a pleasant indiscretion to be brought out and savored late at night when the embers burned low and sleep wouldn’t come. If the truth were told, he had remained faithful in heart if not in deed to Mairi’s memory. He had taken other women to his bed, but when the candles were doused and the room blanketed in darkness, it was black hair that slid through his fingers and dark, feathery lashes that tickled his chest and framed light, cloud-colored eyes. It was Mairi’s mouth that opened