Free The Border Lord and the Lady by Bertrice Small Page A

surviving son’s capture, he had died quietly within the month. King Robert’s ambitious brother, the Duke of Albany, ruled as regent for his nephew, but he was unable to find the ransom necessary to return the boy king to Scotland, although he did manage to ransom his own son, whom the king had secretly sent with James in hopes that if the two cousins grew up together, they would become friends. It had not happened.
    Albany, a jealous man, had considered his brother a weakling. He had no intention of giving up Scotland’s throne to a mere stripling. To return the lad and then see to his death, as he had seen to the death of David Stewart, would have caused a civil war, with the earls and the lairds taking sides. So he had left James Stewart with his English captors. He well knew that the English weren’t about to go to war for his nephew. They had their own problems to deal with now. Henry IV had died several years after James had arrived in England. His son and heir, Henry V, had died just last year, leaving the infant, Henry VI, as England’s king. The little king’s guardians had all they could do to rule England in his name.
    So James Stewart had waited to regain his throne. He grew into a tall, handsome man with dark auburn hair and amber eyes. And one day, looking down on the gardens at Windsor Castle, he had spied the loveliest girl he had ever seen. “Who is she?” he asked his companion.
    “ ’Tis Lady Joan Beaufort, the king’s cousin,” came the reply. “Why?”
    “I am going to marry her and make her my queen!” James Stewart declared passionately, his amber eyes alight.
    “You haven’t even met her,” his friend said, laughing. “Besides, her family adores her. Her grandfather was Gaunt, a king’s son. She’s royal blood. They’ll seek a very brilliant match for her.”

    “I am king of Scotland,” James Stewart said proudly. “Do you think the Beauforts can find a better match for this girl than a king of Scotland?”
    And, of course, they couldn’t.
    Bishop Henry wasted no time in seeing that his niece finally met with James Stewart. The next day in the gardens of Windsor Castle he introduced them formally, and then took Lady Cicely Bowen firmly by the hand, saying, “I am given to understand, young mistress, that you have not made your confession of late. I shall hear it myself now in the royal chapel.”
    Cicely gasped softly, then said, “But, my lord bishop, I have been good. I swear it.”
    The bishop of Winchester shook his head sadly. “Ah, the sin of pride,” he lamented. “This will take some time, I fear.”
    But he was near to chuckling, for he knew very well that Cicely Bowen was indeed good. From the moment she had entered the household of Queen Joan she had endeavored to bring honor to her family at Leighton. And five years ago, when Queen Joan was accused of witchcraft, stripped of her possessions, and confined to Havering-atte-Bower, Lady Cicely Bowen had behaved in a most circumspect manner as she and Lady Joan Beaufort were taken away from that lady to be resettled in Queen Katherine’s household, where they knew no one and were virtually ignored. It was that more than anything else that had cemented the friendship between the two girls.
    Queen Joan had been released just the year before, and her property returned to her despite the fact that it was her confessor, Father John Randolph, who had accused her. No charges had ever been filed, and the priest found himself confined to a monastery for the rest of his days. Lady Joan and Lady Cicely, however, were not sent back to Havering-atte-Bower, being considered old enough to be in polite society. And Cicely Bowen’s good influence on Joan Beaufort was a deciding factor in allowing the two girls to remain together.
    “I think perhaps if you remain here in the chapel meditating for
an hour or more,” Bishop Henry said as they reached their destination, “I can absolve you without further ado, my lady.”
    “Oh,