Chapter Ten
What in heaven’s name did he mean by that?
And why did everything he said need interpretation?
She needn’t dwell on it long, for as soon as they entered the library, her attentions were duly captivated elsewhere.
Not an overly large room, and nowhere near the volumes possessed by the king, still his library was beautifully structured with dark polished wooden shelves, some of which contained leather-bound books while a good many others were filled with scrolls of various thickness.
Along one whole wall was a large arched window looking out over the gardens and the loch beyond.
She envisioned she could spend many happy days in this room exploring the material here.
She’d only had some exposure to the written word, but at the king’s behest, it was not considered fashionable to keep volumes of legends and knowledge in one’s home.
Besides a beautifully crafted copy of the Bible, Marion had only ever seen a collection of Chaucer’s works and The Book of the City of Ladies by Christine de Pizan. She concentrated on the understanding written word provided versus spoken and found she much preferred it.
Stroking her hand along the beautiful shelves, she started a little when his deep voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Do you approve, Lady Marion?”
She turned to him and hoped her expression conveyed just how much she did approve.
Before she could say so, he closed the distance between them and reached high above her to select something.
It was only for a second, but the sight of his massive chest in front of her sent all sorts of mad visions into her mind’s eye.
A bare chest in the courtyard, feeling muscles flexing beneath her hands, the masterful way he moved their bodies around the dance floor.
“Lady Marion, are you unwell?” he asked.
The heat that had quickly risen to her cheeks told her that her thoughts translated to dangerous transparency.
“Aye, my lord, I am very well,” she said. “Tell me what you have there,” she said, hoping to change the subject.
He gave her a quizzical look then drew her to a table with high-backed chairs, drawing one out for her.
“These have been in my family for many years,” he said as he placed three leather-bound books before her.
“They contain some of the stories of our clan and this region which were transcribed by a monk from Iona who had decided his life’s journey was to take him away from that place’s sad history.
He stayed with my grandfather for many years learning of this place and its histories and mysteries.
During his time here, he transcribed some of them as a thank you.
As you can see,” he said as he opened one of the manuscripts to the first page, “his work was exquisite. ’Tis written in old Scots and Gaelic, but I have learned most of it along the way and am hoping if the king’s commission works, I shall have this copied for safekeeping. ”
The work was incredible. Some pages contained flowing lettering while others contained illustrated depictions of beautiful maidens, fairies, and even sea serpents. This was the sort of volume that interested her.
She looked at him and asked, “My lord, what is the commission you speak of?”
Alexander explained that the king wanted a printing press established in Scotland for all its great works to be copied and made widely available not only to the nobles, but to commonfolk as well.
It was some sort of device that would allow paper to be placed over inked letters and then dried, over and over until all the pages in a book could be cut, sorted, and bound.
Marion could hardly wrap her mind around it and the man before her who, without all the chaos at the palace, was much more at ease in this setting, and if she were to be brutally truthful to herself, so was she.
“I confess, I could spend much time in this room with all these stories to explore,” she said, her mind thinking of far off lands, but perfectly content in the place she was and the company she currently kept.
“Aye, ’tis my favorite room in the castle as well.
In fact, Lady Marion,” he said as if an idea had just come to him, “when I was a wee lad, my father would invite an elder from the village just beyond those hills who would come to recite these stories to us and then give us their meaning. He still spoke old Scots and Gaelic and would keep us entertained for hours. Would you like that?”
The tone in his voice when he spoke of the man and the far off time was so compelling she could not help but watch his mouth as he spoke. His eyes grew darker when she replied, “Aye, I would like that, my lord.”
For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Servants had been coming and going throughout the afternoon to stoke the fire or set aside libations on a side table, but at this moment, the library was empty save for the two of them.
Seated together and turned toward one another staring hard at the other, Marion was unsure what to do next. In the same way as at the palace, she became transfixed with him, unable to tear her gaze away.
Alexander leaned toward her, and she did the same. “Marion,” he whispered and cupped her face with his hands, stroking her lips with his thumbs. Seconds later, he did so with his lips, sending shivers through her.
“Are you cold?” he asked. “Come, let us sit by the hearth.” He drew her to standing and, taking her hand, led her to the hearth which provided warmth she didn’t really need.
“Nay, my lord. I am quite warm,” she said, which drew his gaze onto hers.
“I never know if you want me to kiss you or not.”
Though it was chivalrous of him to apparently give her the choice, she wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to do, so she did what she wanted to do.
Marion reached up with one hand and pulled him toward her until their mouths were a breath apart.
She gazed into his eyes with as much courage as she could muster to let him see what she felt.
Alexander’s hands were in her hair and at her waist, pulling her in as his mouth pressed against hers.
Their tongues found a familiar dance as her hands entangled in his hair, attempting to draw him even closer than was possible.
Alexander broke the kiss and tilted her head back then traced sensuous kisses along her neck while his hand left her waist and reached up to cup her breast. When he squeezed, she gasped, the sound of which was quickly buried by his mouth closing over hers again.
Marion was becoming slowly consumed by his passion and hers and the growing need to know more of this man and the liquid fire that pulsed through her veins every time he touched her.
“God, I want you,” he said as his mouth trailed across her cheek to her ear and down her neck again.
Aye, she wanted him too, but she was not about to admit it, and then the reality of their proximity and the fact that anyone could walk through the door, which she hadn’t noticed had been closed, washed over her.
“My lord, we cannot,” she said and stepped back from him.
His eyes were heavy with passion and his sensual smile was filled with the promise of all the delights Marion could imagine and more, considering she didn’t know very much about such things.
“I will let you go, Lady Marion, as long as you admit one thing to me,” he said in a tantalizingly steady voice.
“And what is that?” she asked as his eyes trailed the length of her, resting mostly on her mouth and breasts.
Meeting her gaze again, he closed the distance between them and brought his mouth to within an inch of hers. She couldn’t help but part hers, ready and wanting the next onslaught.
“You will tell me you want me as much as I want you.”
It was torture to say words like that to a lady of her years and status. Why would he want to make her voice it?
“Or else?” she dared ask.
His deep voice rumbled in a low growl-chuckle sort of sound.
“Or I will never kiss you again.”
What choice did she have? She was never good at being untruthful and doubted her muddled mind.
“I want you,” she whispered.
Alexander’s gaze fixed on her. He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips and kissed.
“Then I shall let it be known that I wish to court you,” he said and promptly left the library and Marion standing there with her jaw agape.
*
He must be a madman to have said such a thing without first establishing she’d had no formal attachment to anyone else. But he could not help himself. She had to be his for there was no way he could ever stand by and see her with another man.
Alexander met the queen and his sister on his way out of the castle.
“You will find Lady Marion in the library, Your Majesty, sister. See she is entertained while I catch up with the hunting party.”
He didn’t wait to see if they agreed; rather he made his way to the stable to where his horse waited and whinnied when he saw his master approaching.
“Not so fast,” Angus, the master stable hand, said. “Where do you think you’re going, m’lord?”
Alexander had always given Angus way to speak freely, but in this moment, he needed to see the king.
“Angus, I know you’re looking out for my well-being,” he said with a sigh, “but it has been quite some time since my fall.” It was an age at least. Alexander pulled his horse from its stall and mounted. “I plan to find the king and my brother on an important matter.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve the look of a woman’s influence about you.”
“A woman’s influence?” Surely that was an odd comment to make considering Alexander was donned in his usual trews, shirt, and tunic.
“Aye, m’lord. Someone has caught your eye, and I can see she has made you frantic which is not in your nature.”
“You are too wise for your own good, Angus,” he said before kicking his heels and taking off out of the stable.
He rode hard up the lane leading to the main road west. His brother had been tracking this buck for quite some time, and he wondered if today was the day he would be successful, or rather allow the king to be successful.
Not that the man was without skill. Aye, he was well skilled in battle, but on the hunt was another matter indeed, for patience was the greatest virtue one possessed on the hunt, not strength.
After riding for what seemed like hours, Alexander found the men near a copse of trees standing in a circle and looking down. He approached them and dismounted.
“What goes here?” he asked.
“Brother,” Thomas turned with bright red cheeks. “The most incredible thing.” He moved aside to reveal the fallen buck. “He just stood there as if knowing his fate and did not run at all.”
“He submitted to his king as he should have,” the king said with a satisfied look on his face.
Alexander checked the animal who was for certain no longer of this earthly world and noted the single arrow into its chest and clean slit across its throat.
He placed his hand on the animal’s forequarter and when he did, all the other men found a place on the animal’s body to do the same.
Eventually, the king placed his hand there too.
“Thank you for your sacrifice, old hart. You will be honored.” Then to the king, he said, “You have your prize, Your Majesty. Are you pleased?”
Alexander was not overly pleased. For why should this creature be slain because it had survived all others of his kind and risen to the admiration of its kin? The animal should have been left to roam as he saw fit.
“Aye, that I am, Argyll. I thank you for this gift and am now indebted to you.”
Not for long.
“Is there any favor I may bestow upon you?”
Alexander could think of only one thing. “I wish to formally court Lady Marion,” he said.
The king’s brow knit. “If you like the lass so much, why not marry her outright?”
“Because her father is not here to ask, and her family is not here to witness it.”
“But I can approve it,” he said.
Sometimes there was such a thing as too much progress.
While Alexander admired the king’s interest in spreading the written word to the masses and inviting philosophers and astrologers to court, some traditions were worth keeping, and Alexander would not begin any sort of relationship with Marion without her family’s formal consent.
What would be appropriate considering his encounter with her family at Linlithgow was a formal courtship.
“I thank you, Your Majesty; however, I wish only to court her until such time as I can speak with her father directly.”
“Very well, Argyll. But take it from me, the long way around is not always easy. You have my blessing to court Lady Marion.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”