Border Storm (10 page)

“Oh, Laurie, can you stop her? She ought not to go to England. I will miss her dreadfully, and Mama will be so angry there will be no peace for any of us.”

“Let me see what I can do,” Laurie said reassuringly. “You go back to bed, and go to sleep. That way, if May and I are not back here in the morning, you can claim that you were fast asleep the whole time and know nothing about it.”

“But that would be a lie.”

“It is too late to think about that now,” Laurie said. “If you were going to succumb to moral principles, you should have done so before now.”

“You
are
vexed.”

“Oh, aye, but not at you, love. Go to bed now, so that I can… No, wait,” she amended hastily. “You had better stay to help fasten me up.”

Dressing as quickly as she could with the help of her unskilled assistant, Laurie took an old, black, hooded cloak from the wardrobe with a fleeting wish that she had the newer, warmer one she had left at Davy’s. Putting that thought aside, she snatched up her gloves and whip and slipped down the service stairs to the postern door as silently and quickly as she could, stopping on the way in the armory to take a pistol off the wall and slip it awkwardly into the pouch attached to her belt. The gun’s handle stuck out, but she believed her cloak would cover it.

She did not bother looking for powder or bullets, because she did not know how to use either, but she felt safer, knowing that she had a weapon with her. If anyone dared to accost her along the way, she could at least point it at him. He would have no way to know if it were loaded or not.

Although the armory lay near the great hall, too many men slept in that chamber to risk trying to slip out the main door. The postern door near the kitchen was safer and, having frequently used that route, she knew the way of its bolts. From there, she felt sure she could slip across to the stables without drawing attention. The guards watching for trouble expected it to come from outside the wall, not from within.

She reached the stables without incident, and inside, she found Davy’s cousin, a lad with the interesting to-name of Bangtail Willie. He was snoring peacefully, rolled up in a blanket on a pile of straw near her pony’s stall.

Gently touching his shoulder, she said, “Willie, wake up. I need you.”

The slim youth rolled over with barely a sound. In the ambient moonlight, she could see his eyes widen.

“Mistress Laurie?”

“Aye,” she said. “Rub the sleep out of your eyes, and attend to me. May is gone, and I must go after her. Saddle my pony, and quietly. Do not wake a soul.”

“I’ll gang wi’ ye, then, an ye’re riding out, mistress. There may still be English soldiers about.”

“Nay, Willie, they are all gone or we’d have heard differently, and there may be trouble over this. You must not suffer for May’s sins or mine. I’ll tell no one that you helped, but it may be wise for you to pretend that you were sick tonight—vomiting or some such. Then you can say that you never even saw me.”

“Aye, no one will wonder that I am sick after all that’s happened in the dale today,” he said. He was already throwing a cross-saddle over her pony’s back. “The fact is that I never did see Mistress May leave. Are ye sure she’s awa’?”

“I’m sure. She slipped out with Bridget, pretending to be Bridget’s sister.”

“Then I did see them,” Willie acknowledged, looking surprised. “She were wearing a hood, and Nebless Sam—he’s watching the postern gate—asked how did Bridget’s sister get inside the wall without him seeing her. He’s soft on Bridget, ye ken, so he
would
notice even did she come in through the main gate. Bridget said that she had come earlier, afore they changed the guards. Then she said that she—Bridget, that is—couldna leave till she got her lasses off to bed.”

“Did they not take a horse, then?” Laurie asked.

“Aye, but they did,” Willie said. “Now that I think on it, Sam said they was riding Mistress May’s white palfrey. He thought it were right kind o’ her to lend it.”

Laurie sighed. “I just hope Bridget does not come to grief over this. I know that she is wild with grief over her brother and her uncles dying, but Lady Halliot will be very angry if she discovers that she left without permission.”

“Then she didna ha’ leave to go?”

“No.”

“Aye, well, then the wicked lass best come home afore dawn.”

“May must do so, too,” Laurie said. “That gives them only a few hours, for it will begin to get light soon after four.”

Willie shrugged as he gave a last tug to the saddle to be sure that it was secure. “Ye’ve your work ahead, it seems.”

He moved to adjust the pony’s bridle, and as Laurie stepped back out of his way, she felt the pistol move and clapped her hand against it to keep it from falling.

“There is one more thing, Willie,” she said, trying to keep her tone matter-of-fact. “I shall need a holster fixed to my saddle.”

He looked at her in surprise. “A holster?”

“Aye, I’ve a pistol with me, and I’ve no proper way to carry it.”

She could feel his disapproval, but he did not question her, merely moving away for a moment or two, then coming back. “That should do you,” he said, adding bluntly, “D’ye ken how to shoot that pistol, mistress?”

Laurie hesitated.

“Is it loaded?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I took it from the wall in the armory.”

“’Tis likely to be loaded, then. Let’s ha’ a look.”

Reluctantly, she handed it to him.

Holding it toward what light there was from outside, he peered at it, then handed it back. “Dinna shoot yourself wi’ this thing. Shall I put you up now?”

“Please,” she said with relief. “Then I must ask you to let me out through the postern gate. I dare not ride across the bailey and ask them to open the main gates.”

“Nay, they wouldna do it at this hour,” he said, making a stirrup with his hands for her to put her foot in. As he lifted her to her saddle, he said, “I’ll let you out, but I’ll have to shift Sam first. I’ll just tell him that I canna sleep for the grippe and may as well be useful. I’ll say he can nap for a bit if he likes.”

“Good,” Laurie said, gratefully transferring the pistol from pouch to holster. “You must watch for our return, too, if you can. The men will likely see us from the wall, but if we just ride round to the postern gate again, they’ll think we are only women coming in for the day to work, and that we’ve just arrived a bit early.”

“Do ye think ye can be back afore sunrise?”

“I hope so,” Laurie said, wishing that she believed they would be. “First, though, I must find May.”

Willie nodded, gazing up at her. “I’m thinking, mistress, that ’tis most likely they be headed down the burn towards Tarras Moss. ’Tis the way Bridget would go home, and if they went another way, I’m like to have heard about it from one of the men. ’Twould be noted, ye ken, just as Mistress May’s palfrey were noted.”

She agreed. “Thank you, Willie. Now, go and shift that gate guard.”

A moment later, she heard his low whistle.

Riding out of the stable, she crossed the narrow space between the stable end and the narrow postern gate in the outer wall. The gate opened as she approached, and a moment later, she was outside on the narrow dirt track that skirted the wall.

Hearing Willie’s low-spoken “God speed, mistress,” Laurie raised her hand in farewell and let her pony have its head.

Near the main gates, the little track joined the wider one leading down to the tumbling burn from the crag. She half expected to hear a shout from the ramparts, but the night remained silent. Doubtless, with the moonlight revealing only her dark, hooded figure on a bay horse, those above assumed that whoever had let her out knew who she was and where she was bound.

“Who dares meddle with me?” she muttered. Repeating that ancient motto of the Halliots and Elliots under her breath, Laurie the Bold rode into the night.

For it never became a gentleman

A naked woman to see.

T
HE MOON HAD MOVED
nearer the horizon, and it cast long shadows over the land. Scudding clouds and a brisk wind made those shadows dance and stippled the landscape with an eerie light that looked as if ghosts had been set free to wander. The third time Laurie had jumped at a shadowy movement, a tiny voice in her mind muttered that she had been mad to keep quiet about May’s plan and madder still to follow her alone. No longer feeling very bold, she pushed on nonetheless.

Her only plan had been to catch up with her sister and talk her into returning to Aylewood, but she had feared for the success of that plan from the moment she realized that May had slipped out of the castle without challenge.

May was too far ahead now, and in any event, she would not stop merely because Laurie shouted at her to do so, even if Laurie caught sight of her and were close enough to make May hear her.

In fact, Laurie realized belatedly, if May truly believed she was in love, she was unlikely to listen to anything that her older sister said, in any event. And Laurie did not feel confident that she could force May to return if May refused.

The terrain was rugged enough so that she had to pay close heed to where she was going, and for a time she could not see much of the way ahead. But when at last she reached the top of a rise and saw the dense blackness of Tarras Wood sprawled below her, a pale horse and lone rider stood out clearly against it.

Laurie saw no sign of Bridget, but she realized that if May looked back, she was likely to see her silhouetted against the sky unless the moon conveniently chose that moment to disappear behind a cloud. But she dared not slow down if she wanted to catch her.

Her horse would not show as easily as May’s did, and Laurie’s clothing was dark, too. Once she was below the ridge top, she felt confident that May would not see her even if she did look back.

May did not pause, however. Indeed, she had put her pony to what was, for her, a reckless pace. Clearly, she realized that the more quickly she put distance between herself and Aylewood, the more likely her mad scheme was to succeed.

Laurie urged the bay to a lope. The faster pace was risky, but she dared not let May get too far ahead. As it was, the chance that at any moment she might lose sight of her was all too great.

May skirted the eastern edge of Tarras Wood, moving away from Tarras Burn and heading toward the forest’s southern end, where it met the Liddel. From there, she followed the river east. Passing through the elongated shadow of an abandoned peel tower called Corbies Nest—an old, deteriorating hilltop tower that many claimed was haunted—she rode on without pause toward Kershopefoot.

Laurie had hoped that May would not go so far. She knew that Kershopefoot provided the easiest access to England from the Scottish Borders. From the bridge at the little village to the point where the Liddel joined the Esk at Canonbie, Liddel Water formed the boundary between the two countries. However, even knowing that and anticipating that May might take that route if she somehow managed to meet her lover before Laurie caught up with her, Laurie had not suspected that May would have the courage, or reason, to ride so far alone.

Laurie realized that she had two choices. She could shout at May and hope that her sister heard her, or she could simply keep riding and try to catch up without May catching sight of her. Fearing that May would simply give spur to her pony and ride at an even more reckless pace to get away, she opted for the latter.

She knew that May was less likely to catch sight of her while they followed the well-worn rocky path that ran close to the Liddel, because it wound through shrubbery. Thus, its twists and turns and ups and downs provided more concealment than the more open land of the Moss near the edge of the forest.

The clouds overhead helped, too, whenever they veiled the moon’s bright light. That made it harder to see May, however, and at one point, where boulders blocked the direct route to the village of Kershopefoot and the path led away from the river for a time, she feared that she had lost sight of May altogether.

Drawing rein in the shadow of an immense boulder on a low rise, she scanned the landscape ahead where the hillside sloped down to the dark village. She could easily make out the village and the ribbon of glittering water beyond it, but foliage thickened near the Liddel. She saw no movement.

The white palfrey was nowhere in sight.

Surely, she thought, May would not ride into the village. To be sure, it provided the most direct route to the bridge spanning the Liddel, but she did not believe for one moment that May, riding unescorted, would go into the village.

Remembering another detail, Laurie grew doubly sure that May had not entered the village. Kershopefoot Bridge did not sit with a foot in each country. It actually led to the point of Dayholm, the triangular patch of land that lay in the fork where the river met Kershopefoot Burn.

Dayholm, on Scottish soil, was one of the favorite sites for grievance meetings between the two countries, because England lay just on the other side of the holm, separated from it only by narrow Kershopefoot Burn. In any event, there would be guards on the bridge, awake and alert.

With these thoughts in mind, Laurie decided that May would meet her lover somewhere nearby. She still found it hard to believe that her younger sister had ridden so far on her own; it was impossible to imagine that May would have the courage to cross the border by herself.

She had been staring southeast toward the village, but just then she remembered that Davy had once mentioned a reivers’ ford that lay a half-mile or so west of Kershopefoot. Davy had said that the Liddel was more treacherous there but that the reivers were safer than they would be trying to cross the bridge.

As she turned her head to look west, movement flickered and she saw the palfrey at last. But May was no longer alone. A larger dark horse trotted beside hers, its rider a big, solid-looking man.

The moon eased from behind a cloud, and moonlight glittered on the man’s torso, making it look as if he wore silver trappings.

For a moment, Laurie thought that perhaps May’s knight really was as wealthy as May and Isabel believed he was. Then she realized that he was wearing chain mail. Such prudence was not unusual, though. Any Englishman of sense who crossed to the Scottish side of the line would wear protective gear. And good chain mail was expensive.