Border Storm (30 page)

“How dare you!”

“Easily,” he said. “As I told you before, it is my right, just as it is my right as your jailer to lock you up. If a jailer were to beat you, however, some folks might object. But if your husband does so, no one will say a word.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Wouldn’t I?” He lifted her again, holding her close to him but with her feet off the floor. With his lips close to hers, he repeated gently, “Wouldn’t I, lass?”

When without a thought she raised a hand to strike him, he dumped her unceremoniously onto the bed.

Realizing what she had nearly dared, she scrambled away from him as far as she could, only to get tangled in her skirts and bump hard against the wall.

He stood where he was, just watching her, and she realized that she could not escape. He could reach her easily by stretching out an arm. Her heart pounded.

“I see that you recognize your peril,” he said, his voice deceptively gentle.

Seeing her eyes widen warily, Hugh felt a twinge of unfamiliar guilt at having frightened her. He had meant to do so, to teach her that she had to obey his orders, so he tried to suppress the guilt, but the feeling lingered.

It was hard to keep his hands off her. He wanted to behave well, but she was too tempting. He hoped with all his being that they laid hands on May Halliot soon.

When Laura did not speak, he said evenly, “What did you hope to accomplish, exactly, by venturing outside the wall?”

She licked her lips, and he felt a new stirring of desire.

Fighting it, he repeated, “What did you expect, Laura?”

“I knew her ladyship would get tired, and I was going to send the men back with her when she did. I’d have kept Andrew with me.”

“My men would not have left you with just the boy.”

“They seem to obey me easily enough. Perhaps you have not noticed.”

“I know that they have orders to treat you with the respect due to your station, but they still know better than to let you ride off by yourself.”

She sighed, and for the first time he saw defeat in her expression.

Hugh found that he did not like the look. He said, “There will be no unnecessary killing, lass. I shall declare a ‘hot trod.’ The most recent raid was only days ago, and that means that your father will be obliged to help me arrest the raiders. That is what Scrope should have done, and he knows it. He knew, too, unfortunately, that your father was new to his job.”

She stayed where she was, but he had stirred her curiosity. “What had that to do with anything?”

“Only that Scrope’s position, as he explained it to me—and I believe he wrote as much to the Queen—was that experience told him he’d get no help from the warden. Redress for the outrage against Carlisle being unobtainable, he said, he offered Liddesdale no more than honorable and neighborlike assistance by punishing the felons.”

Bitterly, Laurie retorted, “The women and bairns led away in leashes like so many dogs were no doubt grateful to my lord Scrope and his minions for such kindly assistance.”

“I do not intend to wreak more havoc on Liddesdale,” Hugh said gently.

“I do not believe you.”

“I must do my duty, because many suspect that Rabbie Redcloak is on the prowl again,” he explained. “But whether he is or not, I am not Scrope, nor do I employ his methods.”

“Do you not? You were in Liddesdale with him. Recall that I saw you there.”

“Aye, that’s true, but I have more than once risked my reputation and position by refusing to carry out the worst of his orders.”

“You dare to refuse him’?”

“I do, but it’s not as you might think,” he said. “Scrope is a good soldier, but he is also a risk-taker with poor judgment who values his position. Hitherto, he has left me alone because he feared my uncle’s influence with the Queen.”

“But your uncle is dead,” she said.

“Aye, and I am now a warden myself. One does not try to read the Queen’s mind,” he added, thinking it was probably just as well that he could not.

She had relaxed. Now she curled her legs beneath her, straightening her skirts as she said, “Then how does Scrope keep
his
position?”

“By sending plausible lies about his accomplishments to Elizabeth,” Hugh said. “Also, by catering to certain members of the gentry and nobility who want him to keep the thankless job rather than saddle any of them with it.”

“Truly?” She wrinkled her nose, thinking. “That seems odd.”

“Does it?”

“Aye, for at home, men frequently fight over who gets to be warden. My father did not want the job, though, because he said others might try to take it, might even murder him for it. But when the King begged him to take over for Buccleuch, Buccleuch swore that no one would interfere with him, so he accepted. I thought it would be the same here.”

“It is not.” He paused watching her smooth a stray curl from her brow.

Her every movement was seductive, and her innocence just made her more tempting. The gentle curve of her waist invited him to put his arms around her. He wanted to explore every curve of her body, to let his hands and lips roam free. The thought that, legally, she was his to do with as he pleased stirred temptation like he had never felt before. His body ached for her.

He reminded himself that although he seemed able to stir a response in her, she did not return his lust. A voice in the back of his head reminded him, as well, just how much it would cost him to give into his lust.

He stepped away from the bed toward the window as he said, “In Scotland, wardens wield great power, lass. It is not the same here in England.”

“No?”

“No. Elizabeth rarely appoints anyone who was born and bred in the Borders. Worse, she keeps most of her wardens in debt and dependent upon her goodwill. I cannot expect much support from her or from the Privy Council.”

“But why?”

“Because she does not want any warden to build a power base that might cause her the same sort of trouble that your Jamie’s Border lords cause him.”

She nodded. “It is true that Buccleuch and some others are very powerful.”

“Buccleuch
was,”
Hugh agreed with gentle emphasis. “Elizabeth will keep him on a tighter rein once she has him in ward at Berwick.”

“But even your men say that Sir Robert Cary, who will be his jailer, is likely to give him as much comfort and freedom as James gave him at Blackness.”

“Aye, that’s true. No one wants to treat a powerful prisoner too harshly, lest he find himself captured by that same prisoner later. And Buccleuch has the right to offer pledges, too. He need only guarantee that he will appear for trial, and then Elizabeth will free him again. But he will be less quick to defy her then.”

She nodded, as if she understood it all.

He doubted that she did understand, though. Few people understood the complexities of world politics. He rarely felt certain about them, himself, although as warden he would doubtless be embroiled in them.

He said, “In the meantime, lass, I still intend to leave in the morning.”

The wary look returned, but this time he steeled himself against it. He had to make her understand both his power over her and her position as his hostage.

“You are to remain here until my men and I are gone,” he said. “You may use the time to reflect upon your duty as pledge for your sister’s honor. Since I must send my request for assistance to your father once I cross into Scotland, I will relay any message that you would like to send to him, but you are not to leave the castle again. Do you understand me?”

“Aye,” she said with a sigh. “I understand.”

“Good.” He left without another word, shutting the door with a snap.

Watching him go, Laurie sighed again. She had heard of people being rendered witless by passion or lust, even by love. She could not for one minute imagine that she had fallen in love with Sir Hugh Graham, for not only was he her enemy but he was nothing like the man she had once envisioned herself marrying.

That man was a dashing courtier, handsome and debonair, with a keen wit and an appreciation for women who were not fond of household duties. That man would be rich enough to afford a house steward like Lady Marjory’s to see to such things. To be sure, Sir Hugh had not liked seeing her in the kitchen, but that hardly counted for anything.

He just wanted to control her, she decided, grateful that she had made him no promises. Only then did she realize that he had not made her any, either.

He turned his back towards her

And viewed the leaves so green…

B
EFORE SIR HUGH, NED
Rowan, and their men departed early the following morning, Sir Hugh sent Nancy to wake Laurie and ask if she had messages for her family. He even provided her with paper, ink, and a quill, but although she slipped the bit of paper into her bodice in case she thought of anything she wanted to write later, she set the other items aside and told Nancy she had nothing just then to write.

“Tell Sir Hugh I’d be grateful if he would relay my dutiful respects to my father and stepmother. He might also ask if they have had news of my sister, but that is all.” She assumed that she would hear, in any event, if May returned home.

For the next few days, awaiting news, Laurie felt as jumpy as a hen on a hot griddle, but no word arrived from Sir Hugh or his men, or from Aylewood. Surely, she thought, her father must know May’s whereabouts by now. If she had thrown herself into a river, someone would have found her body. Had Blanche succeeded in persuading Sir William to protect her favorite daughter from the authorities by assuring him that Laurie would be happier in England? Were they hiding May?

Surely not, she told herself. Even Blanche would not expect her to give her life for May, and even if Sir Hugh were in a mood to protect her, if she had to stand trial in her sister’s place, that was what would happen. Scrope wanted vengeance for Martin Loder’s death, and without May to corroborate her version of what had happened, it would be her word against Cornus Grant’s. No one would believe her, and Scrope would insist on hanging her. The thought made her shiver.

Lady Marjory had no such worries. She continued in her usual blithe fashion, hovering over Laurie and behaving as if nothing mattered more to her than Laurie’s comfort—except, perhaps, Sir Hugh’s. Laurie had taken her measure, however, and although she was invariably friendly to the older woman, she had ceased to expect real support from her. Indeed, Lady Marjory’s impractical suggestions frequently proved more nuisance than help, but fortunately, real help soon arrived.

Late the first morning, after Sir Hugh and his men had gone, Meggie made a rare appearance in the hall not long after Laurie and Lady Marjory sat down at the high table to break their fast. Two women followed in her wake.

“This be Matty,” she said, gesturing to the older one. “And this be Sheila.”

The two bobbed curtsies. They regarded Laurie curiously but seemed ready to accept her as the castle’s mistress, and for once she had no wish to contradict that perception. The two had worked at Brackengill before Janet Graham’s departure for Scotland, and it was clear from the start that they felt perfectly at home and had every intention of setting the castle to rights as quickly as they could.

By the end of the week, three younger maidservants had joined them, including one who would serve Laurie in Nan’s stead. The very walls vibrated with their energy as they set to work under Matty’s direction, turning out bedchambers, shaking curtains and wall hangings, and scrubbing everything in sight.

A week to the day after Sir Hugh left, as Laurie was discussing the day’s schedule with Meggie and Matty, Andrew ran into the kitchen puffed with news.

“We’ve had word from the master,” he exclaimed.

Nancy and Sheila bustled in from the scullery, wiping their hands on their aprons as they came. Peter turned on the bench by the little table, where he had been trying to teach John to play noughts and crosses with charcoal and a bit of slate.

Laurie tensed, waiting for Andrew to announce that Sir Hugh’s men had burned more cottages and killed more citizens of Liddesdale.

“Well, tell us your news, then, laddie,” Meggie said.

“Aye, I’ll tell ye,” he said. “All them bluidy—” Looking guilty, he cleared his throat and began again. “All them wicked Scots reivers left their homes and fled into the woods in Tarras Moss afore the master could catch ’em—went to ground like foxes, they said. The devil hisself guards them woods!”

“You guard your tongue, my wee laddie,” Meggie said.

“Aye, sure, but they do say as much, Mam,” Andrew said. “Men what go in get swallowed up by bogs and such, they say, as if old Clooty hisself reaches right up through the mud to snatch them to Hell. D’ye ken them woods, mistress?”

“Aye, I do,” Laurie said. “They are treacherous, right enough. The forest floor is more bog than dirt. Only those who live there ken the safe ways to go.”

“D’ye ken their secret ways?”

“Some of them I do,” she said, remembering when she and Sym had hidden in the tree.

“Then ye could tell the master how to catch them bluidy reivers!”

Laurie said evenly, “I cannot do that, Andrew.”

“But—”

“Haud your whist, ye fashious bairn,” Nancy snapped at him. “D’ye no ken that them reivers be her ain folk? She’s no going to split on them any more than ye would split on us!”

“I just might split on you, Nancy Tattle-Mouth!”

“Hush now,” Meggie commanded.

“Did they say what your master means to do?” Laurie asked.

Andrew looked at her but hesitated. “Happen I shouldna tell ye,” he said at last. “I plumb forgot ye be ain o’ the enemy, and all.”

“That will be enough of that kind of talk,” Meggie said sharply.

To change the subject, Laurie said, “Are the men of Brackengill all safe?”

“Aye,” Andrew replied. “Master be setting up for a siege, is all. He says he’ll wait ’em out, that within a sennight they’ll come begging to ’im, ’cause they canna ha’ enough food to last them long, as many as what they be.”

Laurie nodded, although she did not agree with Sir Hugh’s assessment. She knew that Davy Elliot kept stores of food for just such crises, and most Borderers could get by on surprisingly little when they had to. Moreover, she was certain that no siege would succeed in keeping everyone in the woods.