Border Storm (41 page)

“Martin Loder! But is that not the man your sister killed?” The look on Lady Marjory’s face altered slightly. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I cannot blame you for doubting my sanity, madam, for ’tis surely a wild tale, but I assure you, Loder is alive. That is,” she amended, “he was alive before Hugh killed… that is, before Loder died.”

She went on to explain matters as well as she could. When she had finished, she could not be sure that Lady Marjory understood it all, but her ladyship clearly had grasped at least one important detail.

Clapping her hands together with childish delight, she exclaimed, “Then if Martin Loder confessed to the raids, not to mention if he was alive all that time and not murdered, and if your sister has been found, no one will continue to insist any longer that you are Sir Hugh’s hostage and not his proper wife. How very much more comfortable
that
will be for all of us!”

“Yes… yes, I expect it will,” Laurie said, wondering why the light seemed to have gone out of the day. “I need no longer be his hostage.”

“Yes, dear, that is what I just said, and it is such a relief, is it not? But you look chilled. Shall I send someone to fetch you some hot-spiced ale or claret, or perhaps some nourishing soup? Or are you hungry enough to drink some soup? But, of course, you must be hungry if you have not eaten in all this time,” she went on, paying no heed to Laurie’s silence. “And Sir Hugh will be ravenous. Gentlemen are always starving after a good set-to with an enemy. What have I been thinking just to be sitting here like a block?”

Leaping to her feet, she shook out her skirts, adding, “I shall soon stir them to action in the kitchen, I promise you. Not that Meggie and her Nan won’t have kept something warm from the household supper, for I warrant they have, because I told them to do so yesterday when I thought you had merely stayed out late, riding with Meggie’s Andrew.

“I will just go along and tell them that everything must be prepared to Sir Hugh’s most exacting taste,” she went on. “I know that they will be glad to learn that he is at home again. When I have spoken to them, I shall come to your room to be sure you have all you require to dress for supper. You will be wanting to change out of those dreadful clothes, and whilst I am sure that Rose girl you hired to attend you means well enough, I am not by any means certain that…”

Laurie let the flow of words pass over her until Lady Marjory had run out of things to say and had hurried off to the kitchen. Then, alone at last, she stood for a long moment, contemplating the unwelcome fact that her days as a hostage were over. She could now leave Brackengill forever. She was still handfasted to Hugh, of course, but since the handfasting had been no more than a way of making it acceptable for her to stand hostage for May, no one would expect her to remain with him for the full year and a day, and thanks to Providence, she was still a maiden. If she agreed to endure an examination, he would not even have to pay the
tocher.
He could just take her home to Aylewood, and he had already promised to do that.

Her feet felt heavy as she made her way to her bedchamber. She would change out of her filthy clothes and ask Rose to begin packing her things.

Tears pricked her eyes, and she brushed them away, but her throat ached, too, and she could not brush the ache away with a gesture.

Surely, she told herself, her depression was just an emotional reaction to all that had happened in the past two days and was perfectly normal. It stemmed from finding May safe, then seeing her fall dead, and learning that Martin Loder was still alive. It grew from looking death in the face and then making it through the ordeal unscathed after seeing others die, and from hearing Buccleuch so casually declare that he had decided to impose peace in the Borders at last.

It had nothing to do with the thought of leaving Brackengill—and Hugh.

Tears trickled down her cheeks, and this time she did not brush them away. She had reached her bedchamber and, pushing open the door, found it dark and blessedly empty. Closing the door behind her, she went to the window and looked out toward Bewcastle Waste.

Stars twinkled overhead and reflected faintly in the sparkling, foamy water of two nearby burns, but otherwise she could see little besides the dark, curving line of the distant fells. Cool air touched her cheeks, and to keep other thoughts at bay, she tried to visualize the hills at her favorite time of day, when the sun was low, shooting golden rays straight at the fells, turning them and the Cheviots beyond them to burnished gold.

Though she resisted, her thoughts refused to comply with her wishes. She seemed able to think only that she was free to go home, and knowing that, she felt as if she had been suddenly trapped into leaving Brackengill. Hugh would be glad to be rid of her, though. Doubtless, he would want to dance with the joy of it. The trickle of tears grew to a flood when she found it easy to imagine him dancing.

“What’s wrong with me?” she muttered to the ambient air. Realizing that Rose would come in at any moment, she struggled to control her emotions, to think of anything but the fact that she was now free to leave. Taking a deep breath, she scolded herself. Then, finding cold water in the ewer on the washstand, she splashed some on her face. She was being a fool.

The plain fact was that she did not want to leave, and this time it would do no good simply to wait and see what would happen. What would happen was that Hugh would take her back to Aylewood, to her family. If she wanted to stay, she would have to tell him herself and face the consequences. Just hoping that he would be sad to see her go, or that he would ask her to stay, would get her nowhere.

Accordingly, she dried her face with the towel, found flint and tinder to light a small fire and candles, then hurried to the clothes press to decide what to wear. When Rose arrived, if she noted signs of her mistress’s tears, she did not speak of them, moving quickly instead to obey Laurie’s commands.

An order to the kitchens brought hot water for the tub, and while they waited, Rose brushed the tangles and doubtless a few other oddments from Laurie’s hair.

“It looks better, mistress, but it sadly wants a washing,” the maidservant said quietly when she had finished.

“Not now,” Laurie said. “It would take too long to dry. Just pin it up under a lace cap, Rose, whilst I bathe. You can dress it more carefully afterward.”

Bathing quickly, she dressed quickly, too, but when she was ready, she hesitated, turning back at the door to say quietly, “Thank you, Rose.”

Rose smiled. “Ye look gey beautiful, mistress. That blue gown becomes ye. None could guess that ye’d been a prisoner in a dungeon these past days.”

Laurie thanked her again and told herself that the compliment should make her feel more confident. It failed dismally, however, and the weight of her steps made it seem as if she wore shoes made of lead.

She did not want to face Hugh, yet she wanted to know if he felt as she did. The fact was, however, that she feared he did not. It would be easier, in that case, simply to disappear from Brackengill without seeing him. A fleeting image stirred of Hugh on horseback, galloping after her, determined to bring her back. Gratifying though the image was, she knew she could not count on it. Even if he wanted her, he was as likely to respect her decision and say nothing to talk her out of it. If she wanted to know the truth, she would have to confront him again and ask him to speak his feelings aloud. But she had confronted him before, and she had confronted Martin Loder. Why, then, did this seem so difficult?

Just the thought of it chilled her blood. Much as she wished she were Laurie the Bold, she knew now that she never would be. Laurie the Timid—no, that wasn’t right either. She had done some brave things. She had even done some good things, although she had not thought of them as brave or good at the time. They had just been things that needed doing. That was all.

“Well,” she murmured as she entered the hall, “this needs doing also.”

To her consternation, the only ones there were servants preparing tables for supper. Stopping one, she said, “Where shall I find Sir Hugh?”

“He be out in the yard, mistress.”

“Thank you.” Hurrying outside, she scanned the busy yard for his tall figure, hoping fervently that he had not ridden off again on some errand or other. Now that she had made up her mind to speak to him, she wanted to do so at once.

“Laura, my dear, there you are.” Lady Marjory’s voice sounded from the steps behind her. “I have been looking for you!”

Laurie turned impatiently. “What is it, madam?”

“Why, I went to your bedchamber to assist you with your dressing, as I said I would, but I found only that Rose girl within. She said you had come down to supper, and here you are.

“As you see,” Laurie said.

“But you should not have come outside, my dear, for it is dark. Moreover, the yard is dusty and the wind is blowing.

“The wind always blows here,” Laurie said. “As you can see, I do not require assistance. I came outside because I wish to speak with Hugh.”

“Sir
Hugh, my dear,” Lady Marjory said with an arch look.

Laurie pressed her lips together, trapping words that begged to be spoken. Her hands clenched at her sides.

When a large, warm hand grasped her shoulder, she realized that the arch look on Lady Marjory’s face was not directed at her but at Hugh. She relaxed when he said, “My wife surely is entitled to name me as she chooses, Aunt.”

Lady Marjory made a graceful curtsy. “It must be as you wish, of course, my dear sir. Pray, do take her indoors, though. One cannot doubt that she needs rest after her ordeal and should not be tiring herself in this way.”

“I will attend to her,” Hugh said quietly.

“Shall we all go back inside, then? I warrant the servants will have our supper laid very quickly now.”

“Please, sir, I want to talk to you,” Laurie said in an undertone.

“And I, to you,” he said, adding in a louder voice, “Tell them we will be along directly, madam. I know that you must be hungry, so they may serve you when they are ready. If we have not returned, you must begin without us.”

“But I took my supper at the usual time,” Lady Marjory protested. She added with an indulgent smile, “I shall send a lad to fetch you when they put the food out, if you will but tell me where he is likely to find you.”

“Tell him to look in the little chamber near the kitchen that I use as an office,” Hugh advised her.

She nodded cheerfully and bustled back inside.

As soon as she had disappeared, Hugh said, “This way, lass.”

“But this is not the way to the wee chamber,” Laurie protested when he led her through the postern door, past Meggie and the children, and up the spiral stair.

“No, this is the way to my bedchamber,” he said with a mischievous grin. “I was just coming to look for you. Why were you looking for me?”

With a nervous smile, she hedged, saying, “I… I expect that you must have begun to make the arrangements for taking me back to Aylewood.”

“I know that you want to return straightaway,” he said.

Wanting to kick herself, Laurie said nothing more as she preceded him up the stairway to his bedchamber. She had already said more than enough, babbling like an idiot, and now he thought that she wanted to return to her family for good.

When he reached past her to open the bedchamber door, his arm brushed her shoulder, and she gasped at the jolt of yearning that shot through her. More than anything, she wished that she had the courage to turn and fling her arms around him. Instead, she walked into the tidy bedchamber, still silent but with her whole body tingling its awareness of his presence behind her.

She heard the snap of the bolt as it shot home.

After a momentary silence, he said gently, “Laurie, look at me. I cannot talk to your back.”

Turning slowly, forcing her gaze to meet his, she said, “I suppose you will be glad to take me back to my father.”

“Is that what you wanted to say, that you want to return to your father?”

She swallowed. His tone was so even, his countenance unreadable. Surely, if he wanted her to stay, she would see it in his eyes, in his expression.

Quietly, she said, “The sooner I return, the better, I suppose. If I submit to an examination, you will not even have to pay the
tocher.”

“If I pay it, you will not have to submit to an examination.”

“I… I do not mind,” she said, knowing she was lying and that he probably knew it as well as she did. Remembering his warning about lies, she added hastily, “It is not fair that you should have to pay for something that you did not get.”

“It is not right for you to have to submit to an examination.”

“Naught else would satisfy my stepmother. Nor would it satisfy my father, for that matter, or any potential husband.”

He frowned. “The money would satisfy them all, lass. Is that why you were looking for me, to discuss the arrangements?”

“Is that not why you were looking for me?”

He did not reply. He simply looked at her.

Suddenly furious with herself, she blurted, “I don’t want to go back to them, Hugh… that is, I do but only for May’s funeral. Can you possibly… That is, would you consider…?”

When she could not continue, he said gently, “I’ll not only consider it, lassie, I was going to insist on it. Come here to me, sweetheart.”

When he held his arms wide, she flung herself into them, sighing with relief when they closed around her.

He pulled off her cap and she felt his warm breath stirring her hair when he murmured, “I was in the yard because I was sending lads to Bewcastle. Nixon’s got his own parson, and I want the fellow to marry us properly at once.”

“Really?”

“Aye, I told them that if he’s away, they must ride after him and bring him back. I don’t care if they find him in Carlisle or Berwick, Edinburgh or London, just so they find him and fetch him here to me before we leave for Aylewood. Does that sound like I want to leave you with your family, lass?”

“But you said—”

“You’ll not fling my own words back in my teeth every time we have an argument, will you?”