Border Storm (20 page)

“I have none with me, sir,” she said. “The one who generally serves me disappeared when my sister did.”

“Then, surely, you must have a manservant!”

“Nay,” Laurie said, keeping her eyes on him, but wishing he would simply welcome her and not make her feel like Blanche did whenever she neglected to wear shoes. “Lord Scrope told me that I should present myself to you, sir.”

“Did he, indeed?” Sir Hugh looked past her, frowning and narrow-eyed, as if he were searching the crowd. But if his search was successful, he gave no sign. Still frowning, he looked back at Laurie, his grim look making her wish that she were safely back at Aylewood and had not stirred from her bedchamber that day.

At last, his countenance relaxed, but he said firmly, “You must not wander about unattended, mistress. This place is not safe for my men-at-arms, let alone for an unarmed lass like yourself.”

“I’ll wager that every man here knows who I am,” Laurie said calmly. “Do you believe anyone would risk the consequences of harming me, sir?”

“Perhaps not,” he said with what looked like the beginning of a smile. “Still, you must not stir from my side without one of my men to look after you.”

“As you wish, Sir Hugh,” Laurie said. “Have you other commands for me?”

The frown returned. “I expected you to return home with your father, then come to me after you had packed suitable clothing and so forth.”

“Lord Scrope commanded me to come to you now, so I doubt that my father expects me to return to Aylewood with him, or that he would allow me to do so.”

Sir Hugh was silent, his brow still creased. After a long moment, he said, “I see. In that event, I expect you to stay near me through the rest of the day’s business, so that you can be ready to leave at once when they have finished. I won’t want to dawdle. If we can get through the afternoon without anyone picking a fight, I will be surprised. Tension is running high today.”

She nodded and made no objection when he turned away to speak briefly to one of his men, whom she recognized as the one who had stood with him in the ring of swords.

Sir Hugh turned back, saying, “This is Ned Rowan. He’ll look after you whilst I attend to my duties. Obey him as you would me.” With that, he turned and strode off to meet the wardens at their table.

Politely, Ned Rowan said, “Would you not prefer to sit in the shade of one of the tents, mistress?”

“No, thank you,” Laurie replied. “I’d rather watch what is going on.”

He nodded, and she was grateful. She had been afraid that he might take his master’s words to mean he could simply order her to do as he thought best.

She had been standing for some time, watching as one man after another answered to the complaint laid against him, when she became aware of a lad standing nearby, staring at her as if he would memorize her features. He was the one who had stood with Sir Hugh and Ned Rowan to defend her.

She smiled at him.

Grinning, he approached at once.

Beside her, Ned Rowan said sternly, “Mind your manners, lad. Ye’re approachin’ a lady. Make a proper leg, and dinna speak till she gives ye leave.”

Coloring, the boy made an awkward bow, then looked at her expectantly.

“What is your name?” Laurie asked.

“I be Meggie’s Andrew, mistress. They say ye be wedded now to Sir Hugh.”

“We have agreed to a handfasting,” Laurie said. “That is a bit like a wedding, generally, but not at all the same thing in our case.”

Andrew nodded. “Brackengill hasna had a mistress since our Mistress Janet went away,” he said. “Me mother and me sister, Nancy—”

“Dinna chatter, lad,” Ned Rowan said. “Ye’ve no cause to be plaguing Mistress Halliot.”

“I don’t mind,” Laurie said. “Life at Brackengill will be more pleasant if I have a friend or two. Andrew can tell me as much as he likes about the place.”

The big man frowned and glanced at Sir Hugh, but the two wardens and their deputies were busy discussing something with the jury, so there was no help there. With a sigh he looked at Laurie and said, “Ye must do as ye like, mistress, but the wee scamp is no the one I’d recommend to be telling ye about Brackengill.”

“I do not believe he will tell me any untruths,” Laurie said with a smile.

“I will not,” Andrew declared, drawing himself to his full height. “Me and Mistress Janet are good friends,” he confided to Laurie.

“Are you, indeed? You must miss her now that she is living in Scotland.”

“Oh, aye, I miss her, but—” Glancing at Ned Rowan, who had stepped away to talk to another man, Andrew put a finger alongside his nose and winked at her.

Laurie smiled, wondering exactly what message he thought that should convey to her. She found him amusing, and while she waited for the day’s business to end, she allowed him to tell her everything he thought she should know about the place that would be her home until May returned—if she returned.

Andrew’s description of Brackengill relayed little useful information to one who was accustomed to Aylewood. Although he described the castle as immense, insisting that its wall was the second highest he had seen, she doubted that he had seen many castles in his young life. Still, she was glad of his company, for no one else seemed inclined to speak to her.

The day’s business ended at last with the clerk’s report, summing up the penalties imposed. Two men were summarily hanged for their offenses, and then people began to gather belongings, preparing to leave.

Laurie saw Sir Hugh glance around, his stern gaze searching until it came to rest on her. She met it calmly, determined not to let him see how he affected her.

She was not frightened of him—or so she had told herself frequently during the long afternoon. Still, when he turned back to speak with her father, she felt herself relax. When he turned and strode toward her, she tensed again.

“Fetch her pony,” he said to Ned Rowan. “Halliot will show you where to find it. She will ride beside me.”

When Rowan had gone to do his bidding, he added, “Your father agreed to send some of your belongings to Brackengill, lass. You will be glad to have more gowns to wear, at least. If there is aught you particularly desire him to remember to send, just tell me and I will see that he is informed of it at once.”

“He did not even say good-bye to me,” Laurie said, trying to speak matter-of-factly but aware of a certain wistfulness in her tone.

Sir Hugh said evenly, “He is apparently feeling some remorse about his part in the business, mistress, but do not judge him harshly. You presented him with a dilemma, and Scrope made it difficult for any of us to think clearly.”

She did not like to hear him make excuses for her father, and so she said no more, waiting silently until his men brought their horses. When she moved toward hers, Sir Hugh came up behind her, catching her at the waist before she realized his intent and lifting her without apparent effort to her saddle.

No one had done such a thing since her childhood; so clearly, he was a man who took liberties without thought. Just as soon as she could catch her breath again and think sensibly, she would have to do something about that.

So shalt thou do at my command…

S
IR HUGH AND LAURIE
rode ahead of his men, and until they had crossed into England, they rode without speaking. She did not know what to say to him, but her thoughts were busy.

She knew, as did anyone living in the Borders, that hand-fasting was a form of marriage, albeit an irregular one. Traditionally, the parties contracted to live together for a year and a day, and if no issue resulted within the period, they were at liberty to dissolve the contract. That tradition, like other irregular forms of Scottish marriage, had developed because frequently no parson or priest was available to perform a proper church wedding. Still, Laurie’s union with Sir Hugh was not normal, even for handfasting.

She stole glances at him as they rode together, trying to decide what manner of man now controlled her life, and wondering, too, if he would try to take advantage of his authority. She did not know many gentlemen.

Those she did know were Scottish and wielded great power over their minions. Her father was unusual in preferring peace to war. Most were as unruly as Buccleuch, and lived for raiding and battle. A few, like Sir Quinton Scott of Broadhaugh, were said to be quieter but nonetheless merry, and were ruthless when they thought it was necessary. She had never met a man of power whose will it was safe to cross, and Sir Hugh did not seem as if he would be any exception.

He had scarcely looked at her since mounting a well-muscled bay with a white blaze on its face and long black stockings. The man’s flinty gray eyes moved constantly, however, scanning the landscape, and she noted that his men were as watchful as he was. Despite the truce, which was supposed to last until the next day’s sunrise, everyone with any sense kept an eye out for trouble.

As they prepared to ford the River Sark at Gretna village, she saw Sir Hugh look her way at last. His glance was brief, however. Apparently satisfied that she could manage without assistance, he returned to his study of the landscape.

When her pony’s feet were on firm ground again, Laurie looked back at Scotland. Knowing that she had left one country for another, she would not have been surprised to find the grass in England a different color, the trees more plentiful, the road better cared for. But the landscape looked the same.

“We be in England now,” Andrew said, urging his pony up beside hers, so that she rode between him and Sir Hugh. “Men call this the Debatable Land,” he added cheerfully.

“Andrew,” Ned Rowan called from behind them, “dinna plague the mistress, lad. Come back and ride wi’ me.”

With an audible sigh, Andrew turned his pony aside to wait for him.

“You have been very quiet, mistress.”

Sir Hugh’s voice startled her, but years of concealing her feelings from her stepmother allowed Laurie to reply calmly. “You did not appear to invite conversation, sir,” she said. “Are we truly in England now?”

“Aye, we are. And once we pass through Longtown, it will not be far to Brackengill. We should arrive shortly before nightfall.”

“I look forward to seeing your home,” she said politely. “Meggie’s Andrew was kind enough to tell me about it earlier.”

“Did he?” Sir Hugh’s eyes glinted, but whether with amusement or something else, she did not know. “I’ll warrant the young scoundrel made it sound like a palace. It is no such thing, but you will be comfortable enough.”

Laurie felt her stomach knot, and her hands gripped the reins so tightly that her fingernails dug into her palms. Staring straight ahead, avoiding Sir Hugh’s all-too-penetrating gaze, she realized that she had put off thinking about how comfortable or uncomfortable her immediate future might be.

She had thought only of May and her distress after the false Sir John had fallen in the river and been swept away. But she did not want to think about that now, either. May was no murderess. If only she would come home and…

“Let us ride a little ahead of these others, mistress.”

Again, his voice seemed to invade her thoughts, startling her back to the present, but she was willing enough to ride on ahead with him.

With a sign to his men to maintain their steady pace, Sir Hugh urged the bay to a canter, and Laurie’s pony followed its lead. When they had established some distance between themselves and the others, Sir Hugh slowed his horse to a walk again, waiting for her to draw even before he said, “We must talk, I think.”

“Aye,” she agreed. “I own, sir, that I know nothing about being a hostage. Must I stay in your dungeon?”

“Nay, mistress. My dungeon is no place for a lady of gentle birth. You will have a proper bedchamber, and my people will treat you kindly. Indeed, if I have your promise to give me no cause for concern, I’ll say naught to them about your true situation. They will treat you as my guest.”

She smiled. “’Tis kind of you, sir. Mayhap I shall enjoy my visit to Brackengill as much as the laird of Buccleuch is said to have enjoyed Blackness.”

“I would not compare you with Buccleuch, mistress. Nor would I treat him to such luxury as he enjoyed there. But regardless of what your father might think about my aunt, she is a gentlewoman and will be glad to have your company. You have naught to fear as long as you obey.”

“As to that,” Laurie said, summoning courage, “I have no intention of disobeying, but I pray you will remember that our handfasting was not my doing.”

“You agreed to it,” he reminded her.

“Aye, but I had little choice. No one asked what I thought.”

“You could have refused.”

“Perhaps, but I could not allow them to pass a sentence of death against my sister without so much as granting her a proper trial, and you could not expect me to contradict my father’s wishes publicly, or Lord Scrope’s.”

“In fact, mistress, you were the one who began it, by offering to stand hostage for your sister. I expect you to abide by your agreement.”

“I did agree to stand hostage, but I did not and do not agree to share your bed, sir,” she said flatly. “Perhaps I ought to have considered from the outset, as my father did, the likelihood that any English captor might take advantage of a female hostage, but I did not. I believed that you would treat me with the honor due to my name and lineage. Was I wrong about that?”

“I cannot imagine why you should think me so noble,” he said, giving her a look so direct that it startled her. “After all, you saw me only that one time at Aylewood and can know little about me. Or is it possible that you were spying… that is, that you saw me on some other occasion?”

Every muscle in her body tensed sharply. He
had
seen her in Tarras Wood. She knew it as certainly as if he had said the words, and she could think of nothing to say in reply. Neither could she seem to look away from that stern gaze. It held hers as if the two were locked together.

Licking suddenly dry lips, she said, “I… I do not know what you mean.”

“Tell me this, then. How well did you know Martin Loder?”

Surprised by the abrupt change of subject, she said without thinking, “I did not know him at all.”