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Authors: Amanda Scott

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BOOK: Tamed by a Laird
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“That was grand, ye two,” the Joculator said when they had finished. Clapping Hugh on the back, he said, “Ye’ve a great talent
for mimicry, lad. Just take care ye dinna mimic any o’ the nobles we meet, lest one take offense and lop off your head. I’m
thinking o’ the sheriff especially. Them two fools of ours may rattle his temper yet if they go on as they did last night,
so I’m thinking it would be as well if ye’d try soothing him rather than riling him, for all our sakes.”

“I don’t want to rile anyone,” Hugh said, “least of all the sheriff.”

He spoke so firmly that Jenny said without thinking, “Do you know him?”

Hugh seemed taken aback by the question but rallied swiftly, saying, “I just dinna want to anger anyone with as much power
as
he
wields.”

“ ’Tis as well ye don’t,” the Joculator said. “Sithee, at Threave, we’ll be performing for men with even greater power, and
I dinna want any o’ my people to suffer for their wit.”

He spoke firmly, too, even adamantly.

Jenny looked from one man to the other and doubted that either feared she might do such a thing. She could not imagine herself
doing or saying anything to anger the Sheriff of Dumfries or the Lord of Galloway, let alone the King of Scots if he should
attend the celebration at Threave.

She turned to watch Gilly and Gawkus, who had returned to the central area to do a turn in which Gilly pretended to be Gawkus’s
shadow. Whatever the tall man did, the short one imitated, and the pair of them soon had the audience roaring with laughter.
She had not seen them do the sketch before, so clearly, Hugh was right and they would do as they pleased and say what they
pleased.

She enjoyed their antics, but as she watched them, she was strongly aware of Hugh standing near her. Others in the company
milled about as they waited to take their turns in the clearing, but Hugh stayed right beside her.

Tumblers and jugglers dashed in to take the fools’ places, and painted clubs and balls flew into the air and from juggler
to juggler.

“You did not answer my question,” Jenny said quietly to Hugh when she was sure that no one else would hear. “
Do
you know the Sheriff of Dumfries?”

Hugh had been expecting her to ask the question again, but the Joculator had moved away, and he had no reason to avoid answering
now.

“I do know Sheriff Maxwell,” he said keeping his voice low. “That is, I have met him and he knows me by name. It has been
two or three years since we met.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Do you think he recognized you last night?”

“I took care to give him only glimpses of my face, and the plume waving from my cap should have made it hard for him to get
a good look. I don’t mind admitting, though, that I was wishing I wore whiteface as the fools do to perform.”

She chuckled. “I can just imagine you in an eared cap with its bells tinkling accompaniment to our songs, sir.”

He found himself wishing she would laugh more often but quickly reined in his fancies. He would do better to think of a way
to persuade her to go home.

Their luck so far had been extraordinary. The company accepted her as simple, bonnie Jenny. But surely, people from Easdale
must visit Dumfries. It was just a matter of time before someone from home saw and recognized her.

For that matter, it was only a matter of time before someone in Dumfries recognized him. The Joculator’s damnable play would
make that even more likely.

Following that thought, Hugh wondered if the Joculator might suspect him of being more than a simple troubadour. The man had
given no such indication, but having seen more than one conversation break off at his approach over the past day and a half,
Hugh was beginning to suspect the minstrels of playing an even deeper game than he and Jenny were. Whether it involved jewels,
Threave Castle, or something else altogether, he had nary a clue.

Tuesday passed as Monday had, although their performance Tuesday night produced more daring tricks from the tumblers, more
audacious songs from the musicians; and the Joculator thrilled them all by juggling torches with his daggers.

Jenny had taught the children a merry round and encouraged the audience to sing it with them. And “The Troubadour’s Wife”
began with a fanfare of horns and a humorous introduction of the play and the players by the Joculator.

The audience received the opening act with cheers and applause, whereupon the Joculator announced that the play would continue
on the morrow.

“Our players will repeat the first act again then, so that any who have not seen it can do so then. So invite your neighbors
and friends to join ye,” he cried as the fools and gleewomen passed hats and long-handled collection baskets so members of
the audience could show their appreciation with their contributions.

As the minstrels gathered their gear, Jenny adjusted the strings of her cloak and stowed her lute in its case, keeping an
eye on Gilly and Gawkus, who continued their antics as they cajoled yet more coins from the dispersing townsfolk.

When a hand touched her shoulder, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“You should not have let me get so near unbeknownst, lass,” Hugh said, eyeing her sternly and forgetting for once to keep
his voice low. “In a crowd like this one, nearly anything could happen.”

“I was woolgathering,” she admitted, annoyed with herself. Even so, she did not want him thinking he had any right to scold
her. “I doubt that anyone would try to molest me here, amidst so many of our company.”

“Don’t be daft,” he said. “A strong man could easily clap a hand across your mouth and snatch you into the bushes or into
the next street without anyone’s being the wiser because the crowd would conceal his movements. Sakes, any member of the company
could do it by making it seem part of an act.”

“Now
you
are being daft,” she said. “I need only scre—”

His hand stopped the word and any other sound beyond a squeak as he scooped her into his arms and strode through the crowd,
away from the minstrels. She kicked and struggled, but those who saw her only laughed or cheered him on.

To her shock, Hugh nodded and grinned as he carried her into the woods, plunging them into what seemed to be pitch blackness.

There was no moon, and if he followed a path, she could not discern it. But he seemed to know where he was going. As strong
as he was, she wondered if he meant to carry her all the way to Annan House.

Hugh strode through the woods with his burden and enjoyed knowing that he had truly startled her for once— and doubtless infuriated
her as well. He knew he’d have to take care when he set her down not to let her draw her damnable dagger.

Not that he feared it, but neither did he think it would do her good to learn how little protection it offered her. The confidence
that carrying it gave her, aided by her natural habit of command, would serve her well in a crisis—he hoped.

“Don’t set up a screech when I set you down,” he said. “I know you’re angry, and I don’t doubt that you have much to say to
me. But I have no evil intent other than to prove to you that I mean what I say and know more about danger than you do. Can
I trust you to keep a still tongue if I set you down?”

His night vision was excellent, and her face was as expressive as ever. When she nodded, he took his hand from her mouth and
set her on her feet, whereupon she raised a swift hand to strike. He had expected it, though, and caught her wrist easily.

When she tried to jerk it free, he held it, saying, “You would do better to control your temper, lass.”

“You asked only if you could trust me not to screech,” she said.

He grinned. “Aye, that’s true. Nevertheless, you should think before you act. My father raised me as a gentleman, and knighthood
adds responsibilities of a similar sort. But before you strike anyone, you should consider whether he or she might strike
back. And I’ll tell you now,” he added, still firmly grasping her wrist. “If you try to lay hand to that wee dagger of yours,
I’ll put you straight across my knee and not spare a thought for your screeching.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I think you ken fine that I would,” he said. “Moreover, I’ll let you tell any tale you like to anyone who tries to come to
your aid. Now, will you behave?”

She hesitated, glowering, then looked pointedly at his hand on her wrist.

He relaxed his grip a little but did not let go.

Chapter 10

J
enny continued to glower at Hugh but to no avail. He just held on to her wrist and smiled. Light from the blanket of stars
above pierced the canopy, making his strong white teeth glow. Faith, but it was hard to stay angry with the man, even when
he had threatened violent retribution for a simple act of self-defense!

His strength was another point of confusion for her. It annoyed her that he was so much stronger than she was. But she had
to admit that over the past days his strength had also provided comfort and security. Even when he had snatched her up and
proven how easily a man might abduct her from the middle of a crowd of townspeople and protective minstrels, she had not known
a jot of fear.

He would not harm her, and the safety she felt in his presence had naught to do with his being the brother of the man to whom
she was betrothed. Indeed, the one certainty in her mind now was that marriage to Reid Douglas was going to be an even greater
hardship than she had imagined it could be.

Clearly, Hugh did not mean to release her until she promised to behave. Determined not to make him any such promise, she said,
“Why
did
you snatch me away like that?”

“I told you why,” he said, no longer smiling. “You put too much faith in your own ability to protect yourself. I thought it
better that I show you how wrong you were before someone else did and terrified you witless.”

“You did not terrify me. You just made me angry.”

“If you are expecting an apology, think again.”

She grimaced. “We should get back before they come looking for us.”

“In a moment,” he said, but he released her wrist. “This is a good chance to talk, lass. Have you learned any more yet to
lend credence to your suspicions?”

She shook her head. “But I’ve heard naught to prove the minstrels are planning a surprise for the performance at Threave,
as you suggested, either, except perhaps your play. I must say, sir, Gerda suits her role. All that simpering and fluttering
of eyelashes seems less ridiculous when it is supposed to be funny.”

He chuckled. “I’ll admit I’m enjoying the thing. If it weren’t for my fear that Sheriff Maxwell or someone else might recognize
me, I’d be having a fine time.”

“You looked it,” she said, and was surprised to hear an edge to her voice.

Evidently, he heard it, too, because he looked more carefully at her. But he said only, “We must both take care whilst we’re
here. I’d not be amazed if you should meet someone who knows
you
.”

“But I have never been to Dumfries before,” she said, suppressing the remains of her sharp reaction to his delight in playing
opposite fat Gerda.

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