The Border Lord and the Lady Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  And Afterwards

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Praise for Bertrice Small

  “THE REIGNING QUEEN OF THE

  HISTORICAL GENRE”*

  and Her Novels

  “Bertrice Small creates cover-to-cover passion, a keen sense of history, and suspense.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Small fans ... know what to expect ... a good story.”

  —Library Journal

  “Ms. Small delights and thrills.”

  —Rendezvous

  “An insatiable delight for the senses. [Small’s] amazing historical detail . . . will captivate the reader . . . potent sensuality.”

  —*Romance Junkies

  “[Her novels] tell an intriguing story, they are rich in detail, and they are all so very hard to put down.”

  —The Best Reviews

  “Sweeps the ages with skill and finesse.”

  —Affaire de Coeur

  “[A] captivating blend of sensuality and rich historical drama.”

  —Rosemary Rogers

  “Steamy . . . a work of grand historical proportions . . . a must read!”

  —Romantic Times (top pick)

  “Brimming with colorful characters and rich in historical detail, Small’s boldly sensual love story is certain to please her many devoted readers.”

  —Booklist

  BOOKS BY BERTRICE SMALL

  THE BORDER CHRONICLES

  A Dangerous Love

  The Border Lord’s Bride

  The Captive Heart

  The Border Lord and the Lady

  THE FRIARSGATE INHERITANCE

  Rosamund

  Until You

  Philippa

  The Last Heiress

  CONTEMPORARY EROTICA

  Private Pleasures

  Forbidden Pleasures

  Sudden Pleasures

  Dangerous Pleasures

  SKYE’S LEGACY

  Darling Jasmine

  Bedazzled

  Besieged

  Intrigued

  Just Beyond Tomorrow

  Vixens

  THE O’MALLEY SAGA

  Skye O’Malley

  All the Sweet Tomorrows

  A Love for All Time

  The Heart of Mine

  Lost Love Found

  Wild Jasmine

  THE WORLD OF HETAR Lara

  A Distant Tomorrow

  The Twilight Lord

  The Sorceress of Belmair

  The Shadow Queen

  MORE BY BERTRICE SMALL

  The Kadin

  Love Wild and Fair

  Adora

  Unconquered

  Beloved

  Enchantress Mine

  Blaze Wyndham

  The Spitfire

  A Moment in Time

  To Love Again

  Love, Remember Me

  The Love Slave

  Hellion

  Betrayed

  Deceived

  The Innocent

  A Memory of Love

  The Duchess

  New American Library

  Published by New American Library, a division of

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:

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  First published by New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, October 2009

  Copyright © Bertrice Small, 2009

  All rights reserved

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:

  Small, Bertrice.

  The border lord and the lady/Bertrice Small. p. cm.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-14540-1

  1. Marriages of royalty and nobility—Fiction. 2. Scotland—History—1057-1603—Fiction.

  I. Title.

  PS3569.M28B’.54—dc22 2009019623

  Set in Goudy

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

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  For Kathryn and Kenneth Rubin, with love from Moi—Happy Anniversary!

  Chapter 1

  “I will not raise his bastard, Papa,” Luciana Maria Pietro d’Angelo said in a hard voice. She was a pretty girl of seventeen, petite, with skin the hue of ivory, and long, thick hair the deep black of a starless night sky. The hair was carefully contained in a golden caul. Her face was a perfect oval, her nose straight but not too long, her mouth generous, and the brows above her chestnut brown eyes were delicately arched.

  “Madonna, do not use such crude language,” her elderly female companion said nervously. “You are to be a contessa.”

  “Nevertheless, I will not raise his bastard,” the young woman said, stamping her small leather-shod foot. The elegant fingers of one hand plucked irritably at the scarlet silk damask of her gown.

  “Fiore mia,” Master Pietro d’Angelo said soothingly, “as your dear mama is not here to instruct you in the behaviors a wife must accept, it is up to me to do so. As a wife you are required to
do what your husband asks of you even when you find it distasteful. The Earl of Leighton honors you with his name and his title, Luciana.”

  “The earl wishes nothing more than a rich wife to shore up his fortunes, and to give him a male heir,” the girl replied bluntly. “Do you take me for a fool, Papa, that I do not know why my hand in marriage has been sought by this man? There are many who would have me to wife,” she said boastfully.

  “Not in Firenze,” her father reminded her stingingly.

  Luciana flushed, and the reddish purple staining her delicate skin was not a flattering color.

  “I know there are others who would have had you here, fiore mia,” her father said, “but Robert Bowen, while poor, is of ancient lineage, and more important, he is an honorable man. He will respect you, cara, and treat you well. Do you think I would give you to just anyone? Soon I must return home. I want to know you are in safe hands.”

  Safe away from Firenze, the merchant thought to himself. Then perhaps you will not end as your poor mama did. His daughter was so like his late wife, and yet she wasn’t. Carolina had been beautiful and impetuous, but she had not their daughter’s intellect. Would that intelligence save his child? He prayed it would.

  “I do not question your choice, Papa,” Luciana said in a softer tone. “But this Englishman needs my dower more than I need him. I can see he is a prudent man who will not squander the wealth I bring him.”

  “And you will advise him to invest some of that coin so his wealth may grow, my clever daughter,” her father said.

  “I will encourage him, Papa. He must not take risks that he shouldn’t, but you must assure him my advice is good though I be a female,” Luciana said, smiling.

  “Ahhh.” Master Pietro d’Angelo sighed. “If only your brothers had your business acumen, fiore mia! What a merchant you should have made! And Firenze would be all the richer for it. Aye, I will tell your lord to listen and heed you in these matters.” But how candid should I be with him about your mama’s fragile emotions? he wondered silently to himself.

  A servant entered the hall to announce the arrival of the Earl of Leighton.

  “Bring him in at once!” Master Pietro d’Angelo said. “Do not keep His Lordship waiting, Paolo.” He turned to the two women. “Go with Donna Clara, Luciana. Leave the hall. Presto! Presto!”

  “Remember, Papa, I will not raise his bastard,” the girl said as she departed.

  But though Donna Clara urged her charge from the hall, Luciana had decided that she would not go. To her companion’s distress the girl secreted herself behind a carved screen at the back of the hall where she might both observe and listen.

  “He is handsome enough,” she whispered to Donna Clara as Robert Bowen, the Earl of Leighton, entered, coming forward to greet her father with an elegant bow. “And neither too old nor too young. He can still father children on me.” Her brown eyes silently admired the earl’s lithe figure. The dark blue velvet fabric of his coat was showing wear, but Luciana was pleased to see the dragged sleeves were lined in a medium blue silk brocade. He obviously had style, but not the means to indulge it.

  “If your papa says you will marry him, it will make no difference if he is ancient or crooked of back, Madonna. You must do as you are bidden,” Donna Clara said primly.

  “Hush, old crow!” Luciana scolded her companion. “I want to hear what is said.” She leaned forward, listening eagerly.

  Master Pietro d’Angelo welcomed his guest, inviting him to sit, signaling to his servants for wine and cakes. “And now,” he said when they were both settled, “we will finalize the arrangement for your marriage to my daughter, my lord. There are but one or two small details to settle. Luciana’s dower is sufficient?”

  “It is more than generous, Master Pietro d’Angelo,” Robert Bowen answered. “What small details?” The earl’s blue eyes were slightly wary of some last-minute change to be made in a contract he had already agreed upon.

  “A trifle, my lord, to be sure,” the merchant replied, seeing the suspicion blooming in his companion’s look. “Luciana is a carefully raised virgin with the delicate sensibilities of a true Florentine gentle-woman. I beg that you not burden your bride with the care of your bastard,” Master Pietro d’Angelo said nervously. Damn his daughter for putting him in this position, but he knew his wench too well to argue with her on this point. Better he beard the earl, who was certainly more reasonable and would understand. But even if he didn’t, would he be desperate enough to agree? “I have been informed that the child is as dear to you as my Luciana is to me. But my daughter is young and romantic. She wants all of your attention, as any bride would. She wants to bear you your heir, and cannot help but be jealous of another woman’s child.” He paused, looking hopefully at the earl.

  Robert Bowen felt a bolt of irritation. Then, remembering that the girl’s fat dower would rebuild his family’s ancestral home, which had fallen into disrepair when early earls had spent what small income they could wrest from the estate going on Crusade, he let common sense overrule his pride. Unlike other knights, his ancestors had not returned carrying the treasures of the east with them. They had returned injured, unable to be of further use to anyone, let alone their families. Or they had not returned at all, leaving widows and children to carry on at Leighton Hall. Now Robert Bowen, current and possibly last earl of Leighton, must marry the daughter of a wealthy Florentine merchant in an effort to restore his family’s fortunes, and gain sons. He would have to wed the wench if she were a toothless idiot.

  He drew a deep breath. “My daughter, Master Pietro d’Angelo, is not a bastard. Because I was to wed her mother, who tragically died in childbirth before our union was formally solemnized, I requested that Cicely’s birthright be recognized by both Holy Mother Church and English civil law. When she was three, the papers arrived from Rome attesting to her true birth as my legitimate daughter. And English law accepted my petition just prior to her first birthday. Lady Cicely Bowen is no bastard.”

  Dio mio! He was going to have to say something to justify his daughter’s stubbornness. He lowered his voice so no one else in the hall might hear him, and leaned forward. “My lord, I beg you to understand. My deceased wife, Carolina, was a woman of the most delicate, the most fragile sensibilities,” he began, struggling to find just the right words in English to explain. “If something distressed her, she would alternate between a deep despair, weeping for hours until she was weak, and being so exhausted she would lie abed for several days. Or worse, she would fall into a ferocious rage that was difficult to calm. It was much like a great storm that had to blow itself out to sea. Because she was such a good wife to me, I tolerated these foibles of her female nature. Our daughter, while possessing the intelligence of a born merchant, also has her mother’s sensitive and refined nature. You will not be able to change it, I fear.”

  There! It was said. He held his breath, awaiting what the earl would say now. Would he decide to nullify the marriage contract? Or would Robert Bowen choose to overlook this weakness in his daughter’s character because of his own needs? The Florentine merchant gambled that the latter would be the earl’s choice. He was therefore relieved when the earl responded as he now did.

  “For the sake of Luciana’s fragile sensibilities, I will indulge these delicate emotions for as long as it takes for her to overcome them. I will compromise with your daughter, Master Pietro d’Angelo,” the earl said. “I will domicile Cicely and her nursemaid, Orva, in a large cottage at the far end of my gardens. Then Luciana may come to know Cicely. She will like her, for she is a charming little lass. When that time comes my child will return to the main house.”

  “It is an equitable arrangement,” the merchant agreed, nodding. He had suddenly realized as the earl spoke that his tolerance would extend no further. But at least Pietro d’Angelo’s conscience was clear. He had disclosed his daughter’s weakness.

  There was no need for the earl to know that his wife, Carolina, had died by her own hand. Only he
and Donna Clara knew the truth of Carolina Pietro d’Angelo’s demise. The priest had been told that she had been sleepwalking when she fell from the balcony of her bedchamber. The Church did not need to know that Carolina had, in a moment of weakness, taken a lover and, when she found herself incinta, had taken her life rather than shame her husband and their family. Master Pietro d’Angelo never knew the identity of the man who had seduced or been seduced by his wife. No gossip had ever emerged.

  Hidden behind her screen, Luciana had heard the last words spoken between her father and the earl. She hissed angrily. But then she allowed her anger to ease. Once she was Robert Bowen’s wife she would have a stronger position in his life. At least the brat would not be under her feet.

  “He is a real man, your husband-to-be.” Donna Clara cackled softly. “You will not twist him about your little finger as you do your father and brothers, Madonna.”

  “Aye, I will,” the girl said in a hard voice. Was she not young and beautiful? And would not the earl want to please his bride? He would do whatever she desired of him. Men did not refuse her. She would wrap him about her finger and he would be her slave! Her mouth twisted in a small smile as she already savored her triumph. She was free now of Firenze, and free of her overprotective father. She would soon be the Countess of Leighton, a great English lady. And her husband would love and adore her because she would make him!

  Donna Clara sighed. “Aye, you probably will. Men are fools.” Then she said, “What a coup for your father, who brought you to London to protect you from the unwelcome rumors surrounding your association with Signore di Alba. Now he may return to Firenze proud to announce your marriage, and to tell all who will listen that his daughter is a contessa! Finally your younger brothers may make respectable marriages within the great houses, thus strengthening the famiglia Pietro d’Angelo. Remember what they say in Firenze: ‘A man without wealth is also a man without esteem.’ Ah, if only you had not involved yourself with di Alba!” the older woman lamented.