Chapter Twelve #2
The king and queen were also now in attendance and had taken their seats, the king of course at the head of the table and the queen to his left.
Alexander sat across from her with Jean beside him and then Thomas and down the line with his siblings.
Marion sat next to the queen and across from Jean.
He was pleased that he could address the queen but also see Marion without looking directly at her, for he could not stand the king’s jest at him drooling over her like an unsullied lad.
“Did you enjoy the tour of our grounds today, Your Majesty?” he asked the queen.
“Yes, I did very much so, my lord. Your gardeners are true magicians in how they have incorporated the natural beauty into sculpted artistry. One does not always need the exotic to find true beauty.”
Alexander couldn’t agree more. He’d been thinking much the same about Marion.
While other ladies clamored to impress the queen and adopt her styles, Marion was much more comfortable with her own and true Scottish style, and he admired that.
He allowed his gaze to flick to her and offer a small smile.
“I understand there is to be entertainment this eve,” the king said.
“Aye, my lord, although I am afraid none can compare to that which you offer at Linlithgow and Stirling.”
The king nodded in agreement. It was obvious to anyone paying attention that he wanted that to be the opinion not only in all of Scotland and Britain, but in all of Europe as well.
“You should see what I have planned for Stirling next year,” he said as he squeezed his wife’s hand.
Next year, the young queen would come of age, and it was widely rumored that the king had a coming out party planned the like the Continent had never seen.
“I anticipate it will be one for the written histories,” he said.
“Indeed,” the king said. “Indeed, it will.”
The conversation was light for the remainder of the meal.
Alexander paid as much attention to Marion as was appropriate, but in his mind, he recalled every detail of their encounters together: the way she smelled, how soft she was in his arms, the taste of her lips, and the look in her eyes when her passions heightened.
God, he was sure it had suddenly become warm in the hall as his trews tightened around his loins.
“Argyll, something troubles you?” the king asked.
Turning to him and surprised anyone had noticed him, he said, “I am well, my lord. Maybe a wee full from the meal and the ale.”
As if on perfect cue, the servants filled the hall and waited for the signal to move the tables and food to set up for the evening’s entertainment.
Alexander excused himself and stepped outside to catch a breath of fresh air.
Again, he asked himself how he could conceal his true feelings for Marion for modesty’s sake and her reputation.
Guests be damned, he wanted to march back in there and hoist her over his shoulder then carry her off to a night of endless pleasuring.
If the way she responded to his kisses was any indication, he would have her writhing beneath him and begging for release.
And she would have it. As many times as she desired.
He had to get a hold of himself lest he make a complete and utter ass of himself and embarrass her.
“Ahh, there you are,” his sister said. “Everyone is waiting for you to start,” she said and then ducked her head to take in his expression. “Brother, are you unwell or are you just unable to take your mind off that ethereal creature you are courting?”
“Be kind, Jean,” he said. He was in no mood for her jesting.
“As I see it, you have to choose between acting like a gentleman versus a randy schoolboy or marrying the lass. I see no other alternative for you, but I will say this much. She does not know you like I do, and I believe she is interpreting your frustrations with yourself as dissatisfaction with her. So, fix that. Now.”
With that she walked away, leaving him with more questions than answers.
In any case, there would be none of them this night.
Alexander straightened himself and returned to the great hall.
The tables and chairs had been arranged so that all focus would be on a sole chair just in front of the hearth.
The king and queen were, of course, in the center with a chair left for Alexander and Marion seated beside him.
It was just as well. He needed to be able to sit beside her and keep his hands to himself.
And he would be sure she understood that his internal struggles were his and were not a reflection or any fault of hers.
“Has Gordon been shown in?” he asked his sister just before she took her seat.
“Aye, he is here and well primed,” she said with a grin.
Gordon was the only man Alexander had ever known who could drink his weight in ale and never show it. The only tell was that he stood a little taller and spoke a little clearer.
Sitting next to Marion with the firelight on her features, Alexander could not recall another time he’d been preoccupied with his own future, family, children, the future of the clan. All of it ran through his mind in a flash the moment he caught her gaze.
“I am glad you are seated next to me, Lady Marion. I do hope that you enjoy our version of telling stories, though I look forward to experiencing yours as well.”
“Aye, my lord, I am very much looking forward to this as I have always discovered that during such tellings, various truths are gleaned that may help us understand one another better.”
He couldn’t agree more and once again admired the way her mind turned.
“You will find that is very much the case with us as well, but I must warn you,” he said and leaned in close to her ear, “some of Gordon’s tales should be taken with a grain of salt.”
She laughed which was a delight to his ears. The thought of his actions and struggles causing her discomfort did not sit well with him. He would be sure to be far more mindful in the future with her.
“I assumed as much, my lord. Though I admit, ’tis wee Archie’s stories I am most interested in hearing.”
“Now those are tall, despite the wee lad’s height.”
“May I ask you something?”
“Aye, please do, my lady.”
“I noticed your younger siblings calling you by a shortened version of your given name.”
“Aye.”
“Is that a tradition in your family?”
“Aye, I suppose it is. My father always encouraged us to do that versus my lord which he felt was far too formal. We keep the formality with the staff and villagers so as to maintain distinction, but even Gordon there calls me wee man just the same as he did when I was but a bairn.”
“I like that. My family are quite informal with one another as well. Thank you for being open and honest with me.”
He nodded and then sat back, pleased as Gordon commanded the attention of everyone in the hall.