Free The Border Lord and the Lady by Bertrice Small

Cicely asked, fascinated.
    “They say it was Alice FitzAlan, but no one can prove it for certain,” Lady Joan replied. “I saw Jane Beaufort once. She’s a pretty child, and is fostered by one of the de Bohun family. My uncle will see her well married one day.”
    “Do you think His Grace will introduce you to the Scots king?” Cicely wondered.
    “Aye, he will,” Lady Joan said. “With little King Henry still in leading strings, and years ahead of them to govern, my family will want an ally in the north. The little brat had a temper tantrum the other day as he was about to be brought into Parliament, and it had to be canceled until the next morning, when he was quite amenable to sitting in Queen Katherine’s lap while the lords nattered on for hours. You know, Ce-ce, I quite like the idea of being a queen,” she said with a smile. “I mean, if James Stewart is to finally return to Scotland, whom could he possibly marry there? His mother was some clansman’s daughter, not a girl of high rank. The Scots earls are a contentious lot, always squabbling, and each one of them has at least one daughter he would try to place on the queen’s throne. And then the other earls would fight one another over it. Of course, King James might seek a princess bride from France, or one of the northern countries, like the kingdom of the Danes, or even Spain.”
    “You’re thinking about it!” Cicely accused. “You haven’t even met the man, and you’re thinking about it, aren’t you, Jo?”
    “Of course I’m thinking about it, Ce-ce. He has to marry. I have to marry. It’s true we haven’t exchanged a single word so far, but don’t you think he looks nice?”
    “They say he writes poetry,” Cicely answered, “and aye, he is handsome.”

    “Maybe I’ll start smiling at him then, instead of frowning at him,” Lady Joan said mischievously, and the two girls broke into gales of laughter.
    James Stewart was the only surviving son of King Robert III of Scotland and his queen, Annabella Drummond. With his mother deceased, and his older brother, David, dead at his uncle’s hands, his father, King Robert, had finally realized that his only surviving son was in danger. The king had trusted his own brother, the Duke of Albany, when he claimed that Prince David, the Duke of Rothesay, was plotting to overthrow his father. Robert Stewart understood his elder son’s ambition, and his own health had always been weak. But he was not going to give David Stewart his throne. Not yet. So he had instructed Albany to imprison David, and suddenly his strong, healthy son and heir was dead.
    “Unfortunate,” Albany had said sanguinely.
    But there were rumors that David had been starved to death, and denied liquid of any kind. That the prince had been hurried to his death in a most cruel manner.
    “Nonsense!” Albany had declared, but he offered no explanation as to why his nephew had perished in his custody, and so quickly.
    Fully aware now of where the real threat to his throne lay, King Robert did the only thing he could do: He sent his younger son, James, to safety in France. But the vessel upon which the young prince traveled, the Maryenknyct, which flew the flag of Danzig, was attacked and captured in the North Sea by English pirates. Learning the prince’s identity, the pirates had brought the eleven-year-old Prince James to King Henry IV, their own king. Henry had paid a goodly ransom for the boy and his companions.
    Though England and Scotland were at peace, James Stewart remained in England for the next eighteen years. His captors were kind. He was treated with the respect due his station. He was educated in languages and the humanities. The king’s elder son, Henry, who would one day be Henry V, supervised his training in the martial arts.
James earned his knighthood, and even fought in France with the English prince. Yet he was unable to return home.
    His father, King Robert, was not a well man. Upon learning of his