A Courtship at Linlithgow (Thistle and Rose #1)

Chapter One

A tourney was always considered an exciting and joyous occasion.

Ladies and lords donned in their very best attire, the castle grounds overflowing with the finest flowers, exotic animals, and culinary delights.

So why did Marion’s belly flutter with anxiety on this bright sunny morn?

The reason was simple. She was to be presented this day to the king and queen as an eligible maiden who may attend the king’s court.

The whole arrangement was ridiculous by her estimation. She could very well find herself a suitable match all on her own without the mortification of being paraded and gawked at by sweaty old men who wanted a filly with which to breed.

Her only comfort was the relationship between the king and queen.

Of she, this young enigma of only fifteen summers, it was widely rumored they had not officially consummated the marriage which had occurred last year.

At the request of her family, her husband would not breed with her until she reached a more appropriate age of at least sixteen.

He being twice her age, this was more than a reasonable demand.

Marion herself was seventeen summers and did not feel at all ready to enter the marriage state—her parents, of course, had quite a different opinion on the subject, her mother in particular.

“Are you so enamored with your visage, that you will stare at yourself forever?” her younger sister Alice asked.

Marion jumped a little at the sound of her voice, forgetting that she had not closed the door completely after returning to her chamber from breaking her fast.

“I am merely wondering why I must wear all these layers in this heat.”

“Oh, sister, you look beautiful as always, and I am sure the castle will provide an appropriate amount of shade. I am also certain the lords and knights will keep you distracted from your irritation with your gown,” she said as she picked at Marion’s skirts.

Her mother had the crimson brocade brought from England as a gesture to impress the queen.

With a square neckline, and long floor-length sleeves, her gown was edged with thick gold leaf-shaped embroidery dotted with thistles.

A perfect marriage to showcase her Scottish heritage with the English fabric.

Her mother should have been a politician.

While the gown was lovely and certainly accentuated her curvaceous figure, Marion would prefer watching from the sidelines versus thrust into the center of the court’s attention.

“Will you wear the gable hood mother had fashioned for you?” Alice asked.

“Absolutely not,” she said. “I will wear my hair uncovered with a small floral wreath as I would if we were entertaining guests here. Mother will not present me as entirely English.”

“Daughter will do as she is told,” her mother said from the doorway.

Marion turned to view the look of determination on her mother’s face, but relaxed when she spied her father closely behind. His presence always gave her courage.

“I will present myself to their majesties as a Scottish maiden, not an English one. I have agreed to this uncommonly heavy and restrictive gown, but that is all the concession I will make,” she said and folded her arms across her chest, tilting her chin ever so slightly up in the air.

Childish maybe, but the point needed to be made.

“You look like a princess, yourself,” her father said and made his way to her to kiss her forehead.

Her mother would know better than to challenge when her father had taken her side. She had often called them two peas in a pod and claimed they conspired against her. The suggestion wasn’t entirely untrue, but it wasn’t pleasant to have it voiced in such a way and so often.

“I merely want her to be accepted and noticed on this of all days.”

“Och. Anyone who does not see the radiant beauty that is my daughter, is not worthy of our notice, dear wife. Now let us make haste; the king has offered us seats under his canopy for the tourney opening, and I for one will appreciate the shade.”

Alice quickly placed a wreath of hawthorne blossoms onto Marion’s hair and kissed her cheek. “I look forward to hearing every last detail about the lords, and I mean every detail.”

There was no doubt in Marion’s mind that when it was time for Alice’s presentation at court, she would embrace every last second of it and thrive in the attention. If only they could trade places for the day.

“Come, lass, make haste.” Her mother shooed her out of her chamber and down the stairs to the front of the manor they kept while in Linlithgow.

Their larger estate was farther south of Edinburgh, but her mother insisted this summer, they would reside in Linlithgow so as to be closer to the king and his young queen.

The ride to the palace was not overly long; however, being crammed into the small carriage they had secured with her fussing mother and eye rolling father could truly be considered torture straight from the dark ages.

“Mother, my gown is low enough.”

“There is nothing wrong with drawing attention to your assets.”

“There is also nothing wrong with leaving a little to the imagination. No daughter of mine will appear like she just stepped out of a common brothel,” her father said.

And on it went until they finally reached the palace entrance. Marion had only ever heard stories of the delights inside the palace walls. Now she was about to see for herself, and her excitement was enough to momentarily quell the fluttering in her belly.

The carriage stopped and a footman flicked back the canvas, then placed a step at the rear.

Her father stepped out, followed by her mother, and she last. She accepted the footman’s hand and noted how his gaze flickered across her neckline then, realizing he’d been caught gawking, quickly masked his bold act.

As soon as she was past him and sheltered by her parents walking ahead through the courtyard, she shifted her bodice slightly up to allow for a little more coverage. It took a great deal of her courage to walk forward rather than retreat to the carriage and insist she be returned to the manor.

A loud screech drew her attention upward.

A hawk circled above then dived sharply downward toward that which it had hunted.

The distraction was just enough to steady her.

The moment she entered the inner courtyard, all other thought vanished.

Painted men walked on long sticks and blew fire in bright orange streams, another pretended to push against something invisible.

Marion stared harder to see what could possibly hold him back.

But there was nothing. The sight was mesmerizing.

“Keep up, lass,” her father said ahead of her.

The aroma of roasting meat was enough to tantalize the senses until she spied a table topped with all sorts of pastries and pies.

Other tables were topped with every sort of trinket imaginable, and more colored fabric than any she had ever seen hung from wooden dowels.

Marion wanted to explore each and every item and taste each delight, but her father still ushered her forward.

Through another doorway, they went to the back of the palace where a long seating area was built and covered with a canopy to provide much needed shade.

A light breeze which blew in across the small loch just on the other side of the tourney area was a comfort, but would not be enough respite from the hot sun.

She followed her parents to the stairs leading to their seats, and true to his word, the king had reserved three seats just behind and to the right of his own.

Other guests had arrived, and for the first time since she’d donned the gown, Marion was less conscious considering the degree of over-the-top ornate headdresses worn by most of the other ladies present.

Some wore the very old-fashioned butterfly hennin, while others opted for her mother’s new preference in the gable hood.

Marion preferred her own floral wreath with her hair uncovered to any of those.

As a single maiden, she did have a choice; once she married, she would be expected to cover her hair.

Yet another reason to delay the act. Still, it was clear who amongst them wanted to appear as the most elite based on the lavishness of their appearance.

Truth be told, they likely fit in more than she at this point.

As they were about to take their seats, the king and queen made their entrance and so everyone remained standing until offered the appropriate acknowledgement.

The king turned and nodded at her father then flicked his gaze to her.

His features were pleasing, and he held a kind countenance as he smiled.

“My gratitude for joining us this day,” the king said to Marion’s father. “’Tis a fine one for a tourney.”

“Aye, Your Majesty. ’Tis that indeed,” her father said.

In truth, her father had confessed to her he was in hopes of securing a position with the king.

He’d been acting as Lord of Parliament, but that wasn’t official.

This invitation may apparently secure that.

Marion understood her part in the game. For that was all this was—she was a token to be gambled for a larger prize.

The thought of it made her sick to her stomach.

She noted the queen had not turned to acknowledge them and wondered about this young woman and her thoughts on being in an even worse state than Marion who was at least of marrying age.