Seduced by a Rogue (41 page)

The fifteen-mile ride to Dunwythie Mains would take Mairi’s party at least five hours, because the men wanted to spare their
horses as much as they could. So, although she had wanted to ride faster, she contented herself with persuading Phaeline that
only one stop was necessary to refresh themselves and partake of a light meal. However, their party increased its number shortly
after they stopped, when Gibby arrived.

“I thought ye might need me,” he explained when Gerrard snatched him off his pony and gave him a shake.

“I’ll show ye who needs what,” the captain of the guard said angrily. “Ye’ll be riding straight back, me lad, and riding gey
sore when I’m done wi’ ye.”

“Nay,” Mairi said quietly, remembering her ride with Gibby and Rob at Trailinghail. “It may not be safe to send him back alone,
Gerrard, and he will be no more trouble to you than I am. He can stay with the lady Phaeline and me.”

“Aye, mistress, but I trust ye’ll no deny me the pleasure o’ teaching the lad a lesson in obedience when we get home.”

Gibby gazed at Mairi with such soulful innocence that she almost felt guilty when she said, “Nay, Gerrard, I’ll not stop you.
He deserves skelping for this.”

The boy grimaced but made no protest, and rode meekly in Mairi’s wake when they were on their way again.

Although Rob and Hugh had picked up the pace, Rob’s thoughts had raced ahead. No matter what notions came to him, the fact
was that whatever course Mairi chose, he could do naught to alter it. He could only reassure himself that Alex would not harm
her. He would value her instead as a weapon with which to control Rob
.

The best thing Rob could do was to put her out of his mind, to stop feeling anything but the horse under him and the wind
in his face. He could do no good by wasting energy on his rage with Alex or fear for Mairi. He must put all that aside.

To protect Mairi, he must stop thinking about her.

They did not know if Alex was in Annandale already or not. They had purposely stayed northeast of Dumfries until they were
over the ridge and in north Annandale, to avoid word of their small force reaching the sheriff’s ears. They rode now on the
ancient Roman road that would pass within a mile of Dunwythie Hall.

M
airi’s party neared the south boundary of Jardine Mains an hour later.

Spedlins Tower lay near the river Annan just as the Hall did, not far from the Roman road they followed. Knowing that her
party was large enough that word of their approach had likely reached the Jardines, Mairi said, “We must be cautious from
this point so we do not unexpectedly meet Jardines or the sheriff and his men.”

“We
must
stop long enough at the tower to pay our respects,” Phaeline said. “Surely, they can
tell
us if there are Maxwells in the dale.”

It was the first time she had spoken of the Jardines, but Mairi shook her head.

“I know you want to see Fiona,” she said gently. “But not yet. The lad we sent ahead to them has not returned, so we don’t
know they got our warning. The fact is that they are likely in league with the sheriff. You know they are
not
our friends.”

“Godamercy,” Phaeline said. “Will Jardine is married to our Fiona. If you think
she
would allow—”

“Madam, prithee, hear your own words,” Mairi replied. “Fiona is headstrong, to be sure. But I do not believe she willfully
missed our father’s burial or thought such a course to be ‘wise.’ Will is the one who decreed it so. If you think more carefully,
I think you will agree that only if Will Jardine forced her obedience could he have kept her from us on such an occasion.”

Phaeline grimaced and sighed. “You are right, of course. I have feared all along that he abducted Fiona as surely as Maxwell
abducted you. Your father did not believe it, but if I had my way, both those men would hang for their crimes.”

Mairi stared at her. “I had no idea you felt so strongly, madam. I knew, of course, that Fiona’s elopement upset you dreadfully,
as it did my father, but—”

“I do
not
believe she eloped,” Phaeline repeated. “That man
took
her.”

Mairi realized that since Fiona had not been daft enough to reveal her feelings for Will to her mother, Phaeline knew nothing
about them. Unwilling to tell her when they did not know what lay ahead, she said, “I thought you blamed me as much as you
blamed Rob… Robert Maxwell for my abduction.”

“You are my daughter, too, Mairi, but I cannot fault you for believing I had few motherly feelings for you,” Phaeline said
with one of her sighs. “Until you vanished so abruptly and we had no idea what had become of you, I did not know that I
did
care. Recall how young I was when your father married me… a full year younger than you are now. If I showed stronger feelings
for our ungrateful Fiona—”

“Prithee, madam, say no more on that head,” Mairi interjected, touched by Phaeline’s unexpectedly honest revelation. “Fiona
is dear to all of us, and you
are
the only mother I have known. By my troth, I have never blamed you—”

“I know that,” Phaeline said, cutting in as swiftly as Mairi had before. “You make me feel all the smaller, because you have
never cast my bad behavior in my teeth. But I did behave badly, too often, I fear. Sithee, even your father did call me to
account once or twice, although for him to do so was most unusual.”

“He loved you, madam,” Mairi said, knowing it was true.

“He did, aye, and I took advantage,” Phaeline said. “I feel so ashamed now that I lied. Sithee, I thought no one would ever
know. You were clever to confront Sadie, although I do think she ought to have warned me that you suspected I was not with
child, and let
me
be the one to tell you. I’ll not forgive her for that.”

The words were at the tip of Mairi’s tongue to admit that had Sadie
not
told her, she would not have suspected. Instead, she said, “But why
did
you lie?”

Phaeline grimaced. “I wish I could cite some noble reason. But the sad truth is just that your father treated me more kindly
when he thought I was pregnant than when he knew I was not. Sithee, he wanted a son so badly, and I took advantage of that,
too, I fear. I must be a wicked woman,” she added with a sigh.

“Women often do what they think is necessary to protect themselves or their families or just to keep peace,” Mairi said, remembering
her own behavior before her discovery of more open, easier communication with Rob.

“Mayhap they do,” Phaeline agreed. “But that does not excuse my behavior.”

“The turning lies about a half mile yonder,” Hugh said sometime later.

Rob nodded. He knew where they were from his last trip to Annandale. The Chapel Hill a mile northeast of the round tower keep
made a good landmark.

“Do you think your man will find Archie?” he asked Hugh.

Hugh shrugged. “He will find him. But we won’t wait for them.”

“I’ll send men on ahead to see what they can see,” Rob said. “Alex will cross at the ford a mile this side of Dunwythie Hall,
so we’ll want to keep our eyes open.”

The two lads he sent ahead returned to report all clear, so avoiding the track, he and Hugh led their men across the densely
wooded slope toward the Hall.

As they neared the wide clearing around the wall that protected the tower keep, screaming men dropped from trees and sprang
out of the dense shrubbery, swords and pikes at the ready.

Except for the horses’ hoofbeats and a jingle of harness, most of Mairi’s party had been silent for some time when Gib muttered
urgently, “M’lady!”

Only then did the sounds he had heard reach Mairi’s own sharp ears. She raised a hand, unconsciously aping her father’s signal
to bring his men to a halt.

The nearer sounds ceased. The distant ones did not. Looking around, she realized that while she had been talking with Phaeline,
they had reached their own land southwest of the Chapel Hill. They were less than a mile from the Hall.

Shifting her gaze to Gerrard, she saw from his narrow-eyed frown that he, too, had heard the distant sounds of clashing metal,
faint shouts, and screams.

Meeting her gaze, he said, “There be a fight yonder, m’lady. The two o’ ye and Gib should ride on east now, past yon hill,
till ye reach Dryfe Water. Stay near the water, and dinna come back. I’ll send lads to fetch ye when it’s safe.”

She did not argue but reined aside to let the men pass. As they did, she saw expressions ranging from wariness to outright
grins and lust for battle.

“I’m thinking we would be safer at Spedlins Tower than Dryfe Water even if, or
especially
if Old Jardine is helping the Maxwells attack the Hall,” Phaeline said.

“Nay, madam,” Mairi countered. “Only think what Sir Hugh would say to us if we did that and the Jardines managed to take us
hostage.”

Phaeline grimaced, clearly remembering her stern brother’s more unpleasant ways of making his views plain. “Very well,” she
said. “However, if our serving as hostages can be at all useful for those attacking Dunwythie Mains, it must be on your account,
not mine. I doubt Hugh would submit to a Maxwell just to save me.”

Mairi chuckled. “You underrate Sir Hugh’s loyalty to his kinfolk, madam. Moreover, few men would esteem one of their fellows
who did naught to protect his sister and his own beloved Jenny’s favorite cousin from harm.”

A smile touched Phaeline’s lips, but it vanished at once. “You are right again, my dear. The truth is I do not want to ride
two or three miles more to Dryfe Water, merely to wait there till called for. Heaven knows how long
that
would be.”

“I agree,” Mairi said. “I have meant all along to ride up Chapel Hill, to see what I can from the top. If you are willing,
I still want to do that.”

“Aye, that be a good notion, that,” Gib said approvingly.

Phaeline nodded, clearly as curious as Mairi was. But what they saw when they reached the hilltop and skirted the stone chapel
was carnage below.

“Gor bless us,” Gib muttered.

Snatching his sword free of its belt across his back, Rob had dealt swiftly and savagely with his first assailant as Sir Hugh
dealt with another. A half dozen of their men were afoot, knocked from their saddles by the attackers. But they all had their
swords and dirks out and were fighting for their lives.