Tempted Page 3

  Ram continued his slow, deliberate appraisal of the vivid creature as the man lifted her in the air and swung her about. “Who is she?” Ram asked, his voice low and intense, in no way trying to disguise his interest in the beauty.

  “I don’t know,” Zara lied. “Probably someone’s wife looking for forbidden fruit. In any case you’d better leave Heath’s women alone unless you fancy a knife in your ribs.”

  Ram smiled to himself. Zara was clearly jealous, as she had every right to be, for the girl’s looks were breathtaking, but her jealousy had better not make her bold enough to threaten him. “Would ye fancy following me on foot tae Douglas?” he asked silkily.

  “What makes you think I’d follow you?” Zara hissed, but she knew she would and so did he, damn him to hell-fire!

  Heath and Valentina caught up on what had occurred in their lives since they’d last been together. The Gypsies had traveled as far north as Inverary in the Highlands during the summer and had wintered in Carlisle, in England, where the climate was not so inclement. They’d also spent time in the old capital of Stirling and the new capital of Edinburgh while king and court had been in residence.

  Tina had a million questions for him, covering everything from the Earl of Argyll’s Campbells to her own notorious kinswoman who was rumored to be the king’s new mistress. “Is it true she was mistress to Archibald Douglas, the hated Earl of Angus?” Tina asked with a shudder. “No wonder she sought the king’s protection.”

  “The Douglas name is never uttered without a shiver of fear, and yet I think Scotland has much more to fear from Argyll. He intends to swallow the Highlands whole.”

  “Heath, Douglas is less than thirty miles away. The whole of the border country is beneath their heel.”

  “Sweetheart, ‘tis no bad thing that they’re so strong. Since the king appointed Douglas the leading marcher lord patrolling the borders, England’s learned it can’t attack with impunity. This past winter I didn’t hear of many raids between the two countries.”

  “Well, that is good news,” she said, laughing. “We Scots can now resume our favorite pastime of raiding each other.” She put her head on one side, the better to observe Heath’s warm brown eyes. “You didn’t answer, my question about Janet Kennedy.”

  His beautiful white teeth flashed when he laughed. “To hell with Janet Kennedy! What about Valentina Kennedy?”

  “The news is all bad,” she teased. “I’ve a wisdom tooth plaguing the devil out of me, and the marriage noose tightens about my neck even as we speak.”

  His eyes twinkled. “You could always run away with the Gypsies.”

  “Someday I just might,” she vowed passionately. “Come on, Old Meg will give you something to soothe that tooth.”

  “Oh yes! She can tell me my fortune,” Tina said with enthusiasm.

  Old Meg’s caravan was a small world within a world. The outside was painted a dramatic red and black, the inside cluttered with the curious trappings of her trade. She told fortunes, cast spells, and dispensed electuaries for every complaint known to man. Her ceiling was hung with dried herbs that gave off odd pungent fragrances, and the walls were fitted with wooden shelves that held bottles, bowls, and boxes of strange powders, liquids, and dried animal parts. A polished brass lamp swung over a small round table, casting a red glow upon her mystic glass ball and tattered tarot cards.

  Meg was a shrewd old party who had made herself rich by performing abortions on noble ladies. Her business was always briskest when they visited the king’s court.

  Meg gave Tina no greeting when she climbed the steps of her wagon, but mixed her a concoction to sup when told of the toothache. Heath was her grandson His mother had died in childbirth.

  “Meg, will you tell my fortune?” Tina asked hopefully as she sat down at the small table and sipped the steaming brew. Heath, who had to keep his head bent inside the caravan to avoid the ceiling, said, “I’ll be at the campfire when you’re done”

  Old Meg, her mouth set in severe lines, went through the motions of placing her beringed hands upon the glass ball, but after a minute of silence she said, “The stars are not right tonight. I can tell you nothing.”

  Tina held her stare, her strong will battling with that of the Gypsy. “Meg, you know you can read the cards.”

  Meg compressed her lips. She disapproved of the relationship between her grandson and this spirited, spoiled girl. She had no reason to love the Kennedys. “Cross my palm with silver,” she commanded, and held out her gnarled hand.

  Tina placed three silver coins upon the none-too-clean palm and held her breath in anticipation as she shuffled the large deck of painted pasteboards Meg handed her. She closed her eyes and made a wish as she had been taught to do, then handed the cards back to the old professional.

  The first card turned up was The Emperor, from the major arcana. Meg described the picture: “A dark, authoritative man sits upon a throne, the armrests and upper back made into rams’ heads. In his right hand he holds the Cross of Life, the Egyptian ankh. On his right shoulder there is another image of the ram’s head. Behind him are stark mountains devoid of scenery. The symbolism of The Emperor is earthly knowledge. This man is ruled by his mind rather than his emotions—he represents law and order. The stark mountains show his power and strength. He is unyielding and unbending in his judgments. He is a leader rather than a follower. He enjoys being in command and rules with an iron hand.”

  Meg turned over the second card. It was The Empress, also from the major arcana. Meg again described the card: “A beautiful woman is wearing a crown of twelve stars. By her side is a heart-shaped shield bearing the sign of Venus. Before her is a ripe field of corn, behind her are trees in full bloom. She is Aphrodite, goddess of human love. The symbolism of this card is fertility. Both sexes joined. It denotes a fulfillment of erotic needs. She represents heaven on earth, the Garden of Eden, the door that opens unto earthly pleasures and treasures.”

  Meg placed the Page of Swords, from the minor arcana, upon the table: “A youth holds a sword tightly in his hands. Clouds surround him. He has to prove his masculinity by fighting. He uses aggressiveness as a defense against self-doubt.” Tina immediately thought of her brother David. She caught her breath as a second sword card turned up, for she knew they were the worst cards in the deck. It was the Five of Swords. “A man carrying two swords on his shoulder, another in his right hand looks with scorn upon two dejected figures whose swords are on the ground. The sky is filled with storm clouds. Here is a man who defeats others, who lives by the sword, who is insensitive and indifferent. The symbolism suggests you will lose something; there will be a breaking of bonds and separation from loved ones.”

  Tina was relieved to see the next card was the Seven of Wands, but Meg made it, too, sound ominous. “All sevens imply change. The card indicates you must hold your own against unfavorable odds. You must take a stand and be adamant in the face of opposition, for only in change is there growth.”

  The Four of Cups was laid upon the small table, and Tina let out her breath thankfully. Meg continued: “A young man sits against a tree with his arms folded. A hand extends a cup to him, while three other cups sit upright in front of him. The young man is not reaching out for the cup extended to him, rather he is contemplating the offer. This card represents the love bed, pleasure, and irresistible sexual attraction.”

  Meg turned over the seventh and last card. Tina gasped; it was the Ten of Swords. Meg said nothing. Tina didn’t need it described to her—she could clearly see it was a man lying prostrate on the ground with ten swords stuck into his back, while above him was a blackened sky.

  Meg gathered the cards together quickly. “It has many meanings; everything looks black.”

  “Interpret the whole thing for me,” Tina said, gathering her courage. “Will I get my wish?”

  “Yes,” said Meg without hesitation.

  Tina sighed with relief. Though she had someone in mind for her husband, she had asked that there be
no marriage for her this year.

  “The cards speak for themselves. You will be involved with a dark man whose symbol is the ram. He will rule you. The Empress represents you. The dark man will bring you sexual fulfillment; you will be fertile.”

  At this point Tina decided none of it would come true because she would get her wish and her wish was “no marriage.”

  “The Page of Swords is a youth who is close to you. He will be instrumental in starting trouble. The Five of Swords shows there will be fighting, struggling, bloodshed that will result in your being separated from your loved ones. The Seven of Wands confirms this change and warns you will have to stand firm if your will is to prevail, but the Four of Cups indicates you will receive an offer and the choice will be yours.”

  “And the last card?” Tina pressed.

  Meg saw the dark male lying prostrate with the swords in his back. Her beloved Heath was dark. She pierced Tina with a fierce glare. “You will wish you were dead!” prophesied the old Gypsy.

  Tina felt something move against her foot beneath the table and jumped. “Oh, what was that?” she cried, lifting aside the table cover and peering down. She saw a large tortoise with a great red jewel embedded in its shell. “Is that a ruby?” asked Tina with disbelief. “Aren’t you afraid your tortoise will be stolen?” she asked, tracing her finger over the ruby.

  The corners of Meg’s mouth turned down in derision. “The jewel is cursed. Any who touch it will experience pain and sorrow.”

  Tina looked at Meg, and suddenly amusement filled her eyes. The Gypsy was doing her very best to fill her with foreboding. There were no such things as curses. Everyone was responsible for their own fortune or misfortune in this world. “You are a terrible tease, Meg. Thank you for the potion. The ache in my tooth is completely gone.” She went to bid Heath good night so she could return to Doon before her absence was discovered. “Tomorrow night will you take me to see the Beltane fires?”

  His teeth flashed. “What choice do I have? If I refuse, you will go alone.” He lifted her into her saddle and she confided, “Father sails tomorrow. I’ll be able to stay out all night!”

  * * *

  Ramsay Douglas thundered across the drawbridge at his castle, and the guard immediately drew it up and lowered the portcullis, preventing any other from entering. The guards had dubbed him Hotspur because he always rode hell for leather, even when he had a woman riding pillion.

  Zara ran up the stairs ahead of Ramsay Douglas, lifting her red skirts high to display her bare ankles and shapely calves Ram followed carrying a blazing torch that flared and sputtered, casting long shadows against the rough stone walls.

  Suddenly another man holding a torch high stood at the top of the stone steps. He moved on with a lurch after acknowledging them with a curt nod. Ram placed his torch in the iron cresset outside his door, and Zara flew into the large chamber that she’d first entered the previous spring. As Ram lit the lamps, she turned to him with a provocative pout on her lips. “He hates me!” she said.

  “Colin doesn’t hate anyone. He’s too soft and gutless for that.”

  “That was a look of disgust—I’m not blind.”

  He grinned at her. “That look was for me My cousin disapproves of my wenching. He’d have me wed and breeding Douglas sons if he had his way, as would the rest of the clan.”

  She came close and slipped her arms up about his neck and whispered, “In this castle I suspect it’s your way or no way.”

  He looked down at her with an almost casual glance “Ye suspect right.” Though the hour was late, he seemed in no hurry, and Zara was piqued He continued his perusal of her person, of the small pointed breasts hardening beneath his glance, and the slanted eyes that gave her the look of her exotic ancestors. He touched the gold ring in her ear. “Did you lose the other earring I gave you, or did you pawn it?”

  She gave him a provocative look. “It was the first real gold I ever earned. I shall keep it always—in a place that will do me the most good.” She was speaking in riddles, and he had neither time nor patience for women’s riddles. He pushed her away from him so that he could remove his leather jack. Her eyes widened when she saw he wore chain mail beneath it. His movements were so lithe, she hadn’t guessed he was wearing the heavy vest, but the Black Ram had too many enemies to go about unprotected.

  As he removed his linen shirt, boots, and leather trews, her eyes became greedy as they slid over the pure male splendor of him. In contrast Zara wore only two garments, skirt and blouse. Ram’s deft fingers lifted the blouse over her head, and he said, “Let’s have a look at you, then,” holding her at arm’s length.

  The tip of her red tongue came out to slowly circle her lips as she lifted her red skirts beneath her chin and posed for him. His dark eyes lost their casual look as they focused upon her triangle of tight black curls. “Jesu,” he breathed, “I thought I’d seen everything!”

  The mate to her gold earring had been pierced and mounted at the tip of her mons. “This guarantees me more customers than I can ever accommodate. I am the highest-paid lay in Scotland, more famous than any courtesan. The king was enthralled.”

  Ram whistled. “The king? How do we compare in bed?”

  She lifted off her skirt and flung it across the chamber. “The king is not without talent, but you most definitely have the longer … wind!”

  He let out a whoop and lifted her high as if she weighed no more than a feather. He tossed her onto the great bed and dove after her, his fingers seeking the gold bauble.

  “‘Tis exactly the right size for a man to pass through before he enters the gates of Paradise,” she said, drawing her knees wide so the golden hoop dangled over her hot center.

  “Then you’ve had inadequate lovers, my wild little Gypsy. My shaft is far too thick, as ye can plainly see…. However, if ye insist on playing games, I suppose I have other appendages will fit through.”

  Chapter 3

  Rob Kennedy had shrewdly guessed that his wife would manipulate him into allowing her a visit to her home in Carlisle. Her trunks were all packed by the time he was ready to set sail at midday. The five Kennedy offspring as well as the cousins from the other branches of the clan went down to the firth to watch them board the Thistle Doon and wave farewell to Lord and Lady Kennedy.

  Tina had had all night to think about her father’s advice to choose her own husband, and she had decided to send him off with a tiny glimmer of hope. As they walked down to the ship, she slipped her arm about his girth, and he hugged her to him and again thought how like himself she was.

  “How do you fancy an alliance with the Hamiltons?” she asked lightly.

  He gave her a keen scrutiny. Was she hinting at the Earl of Arran’s heir? Jesu, James Hamilton, Earl of Arran was the grandson of King James II and Lord High Admiral of Scotland. “Are ye talking about Patrick Hamilton?”

  “I decided long ago he’s the most eligible of all my suitors,” she said, smiling up at him.

  “Yer a canny wee lass. Invite him to Doon,” he advised.

  “The admiral has the king’s flagship anchored a mile away at Ayr, so Patrick won’t be a stranger to these parts.”

  He grinned and hugged her to him. “I’ve nae doot ye’ll have the young stallion eatin’ out o’ yer hand.” He sobered and wagged an admonishing finger at her. “Just dinna let the laddie take gross an’ filthy advantage o’ ye, before ye bring him tae commit hissel!”

  As the sails filled and the floodtide rapidly carried the ship out to sea every face showed signs of relief. Davie yawned behind his hand and Tina teased, “I’m amazed you dragged yourself out of bed to do your filial duty.”

  “Christ, I had tae see the back o’ him wi’ ma ain eyes. He’s done nothin’ but lecture me aboot carnal appetites o’ the flesh. The old lecher makes me puke!”

  Tina murmured to Donal, “David’s not himself this afternoon.”

  “Davie is exactly himself. He’s a vicious wee bastard at the best o’ times,” Do
nal said, thinking of the young prostitute David had abused at the brothel last night.

  Tina didn’t take Donal’s criticism of her youngest brother seriously. When they were little, there had been a strong bond between her and Davie. The older brothers had never included him in their hell-raising because the birth of the two Kennedy daughters had separated him from them in age, and Davie had been relegated to playing with the girls. Tina, a few years his senior, had always protected him from life’s knocks and disappointments. She’d always stood up for him against the others, but lately he had distanced himself from her and was bent on proving himself a man. To her he was still a boy, his slim build a long way from the brawn of the older, rougher Kennedy men. She would make an effort to stop mothering him.

  Tina fell behind the others to walk with her sister Beth as the group of young people walked along the shore. Beth whispered, “I’m glad Mother didn’t insist I go to England with her.” She glanced shyly at the rugged-looking Andrew Kennedy, then blushed profusely.

  Tina followed her sister’s glance and smiled to herself.

  “He never notices me,” whispered Beth.

  “That’s because you never do anything to draw his attention,” pointed out Tina. “Do something—do something right now!” Tina ordered.

  Beth, afraid to, yet afraid not to, bent and picked up a pretty pink scallop shell and quickened her pace to catch up with Andrew. She summoned all her courage. “Lord Carrick,” she said breathlessly, “see the shell I just found”

  Andrew glanced down at the small blond girl and said absently, “Very pretty, dear.”

  Beth’s steps faltered, and Tina came up beside her. “Men aren’t interested in pretty shells, Beth.”

  “What does interest them?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  Tina laughed. “You can always count on two things” But instead of blurting out money and sex, she said, “A man would get excited about a gold doubloon on the sand, or a moonlight swim with a naked lass.”