Tamed by a Laird (48 page)

“But how would he know Dow had the jewels?” Jenny asked.

“Apparently, Cuddy told the Joculator that
Drogo
saw the guards searching nearly everyone who left and slipped the jewels under one of Dow’s sumpter packs because
Bowyer
had told him that Dow had first-head privileges.”

“Good sakes,” Jenny said. “And Reid told Bowyer about that!”

“Aye,” Hugh agreed. “I’m thinking that Reid needs to join Archie’s service for a time if only to develop better sense than
to repeat such stuff to strangers. In any event, the Joculator passed rather swiftly over how Cuddy could have known about
Drogo, Bowyer, and the sumpter packs had he not been party to it all.”

“I expect he was,” Jenny said, snuggling closer. “I think Cuddy was the traveler who returned the jewels, too. When I met
him with Cath the next morning, she was scolding, saying she had fidgeted all night, wondering where he’d gone.”

“As I said, lass, the Joculator explained only most of it. He’s gey shrewd, and shows himself and his fellow minstrels in
the best light whenever he can.”

“Will you really make Reid join Archie’s service?”

“I’ll strongly recommend it,” Hugh said. “I doubt if he knew what Phaeline and your uncle did with those settlements. He seemed
stunned when I confronted them, and his attitude was gey different at Threave. Knowing Phaeline, I’d wager she kept him in
the dark and just promised that you’d bring him wealth and a title.”

“Does Phaeline tell actual lies, Hugo?”

It was a moment before he said, “I don’t know about now. She did lie when we were children if she thought she could get away
with it. Why do you ask?”

“Because I think she is lying about being pregnant,” Jenny said. “Peg and Sadie think so, and they are in a position to know.
Also, there is the matter of her pearls. They never turned up, but Sadie said she found three pearls on the floor. Phaeline
slapped her when she asked if they were not part of the missing string.”

“I see, but now that you’ve mentioned her pearls, was there not something else that went missing then?” he asked.

“Lady Johnstone’s necklace, but she found it herself where she had left it.”

“Well, I think we’ll let Phaeline worry about her own lies, sweetheart. We’re going to leave for Thornhill in the morning.”

“But I’ve never seen a tournament. And you promised to explain it all to me.”

“My head still aches,” he said. “If I stay—”

“Do you really expect me to believe, sir, after all that has happened today, that you would let a headache prevent you from
attending a tournament?”

“Recall that Archie expected me to take part in it.”

“Then tell
him
you have a headache.”

“I want you all to myself for a time, Jenny-love,” he said quietly.

“Aye, that
is
a better reason,” she agreed. “Moreover, we have not yet signed our own marriage settlements. But mayhap we do not need any.”

“We must draw something up to protect our estates,” he said. “But we will talk it all out first, and agree, before we sign
anything.”

“And you won’t issue orders to me anymore?”

He was silent.

“Just as I thought,” she said, nestling closer to him.

“I’ll agree not to issue orders if you will agree to obey when I ask you to.”

She was silent.

“Just as
I
thought,” he said, leaning up on an elbow to look down at her. “How, by the way, did that wee pouch of jewelry end up in
that villain’s boot?”

Jenny told him, and when he chuckled, she reached to touch his face.

“Do you know what it does to me when you touch me like that?”

“Aye,” she said with a smile, stroking his cheek. Then she shifted her hand lower—to his chest, to his belly, then lower yet.

“Kiss me there,” he murmured.

“Yes, my lord,” she said meekly, and bent to the task.

“Now, take me in your mouth, Jenny-love.”

“Yes, my lord.” And she did.

“By the Rood,” he said, “this promises well for an excellent future.”

And it did.

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed the tale of Bonnie Jenny. For those who like to know who was real and who was not, Jenny, Hugh, and Reid
are fictional kinsmen of the real Dunwythie family of Annandale, which included Lord Dunwythie, Phaeline, Mairi, and Fiona.
Sheriff Maxwell was also real. And, of course, Archie the Grim was Lord of Galloway and later became third Earl of Douglas.

The English continued to occupy Lochmaben Castle for another ten years before Archie the Grim collected a formidable force
and finally drove them out of Annandale. During their long occupation, despite the efforts of Annandale’s residents, they
wasted much of the land and destroyed surrounding forests.

Female minstrels were common from ancient days, particularly as gleemaidens, musicians, and dancers.

Employing minstrels as spies dates back to the Saxons and to early Danish gleemen that followed armies in time of war and
had access to both camps. King Alfred once assumed the character of a gleeman to enter a Danish camp, where he “made such
observations as were of infinite service.” Others repeated this stratagem with equal success from that time forward.

For those interested in old coinage, the silver groat Sir Hugh won from Lucas was worth four pence. Scottish pennies were
silver until the eighteenth century and were called sterlings. In 1357, Scotland struck its first gold coin, the noble. It
was worth half a merk (or mark), which equaled two-thirds of a pound of sterlings. So, if you’ve ever wondered where the British
term “pound sterling” comes from…

Special licenses were obtainable from the Church by the early fourteenth century—for people who had lots of money or influence.
Then, as now, such licenses allowed a couple to be married anywhere, at any time, without the formality of announcing it beforehand.

The correct spelling of Annan (river and town) long before 1374 and for many years afterward was “Annand,” from the French
family that settled there. I chose to spell it the modern way to avoid confusion.

Devorgilla’s bridge had nine arches in 1374. It now has only six.

Once again I am indebted to friend Donal MacRae for his invaluable assistance—this time, even more than usual, because Donal
discovered the basis for this and the two forthcoming books in the trilogy in a sixteenth-century manuscript detailing events
of fourteenth-century Galloway and Dumfriesshire.

My primary sources for Douglas history include
A History of the House of Douglas,
Vol. I, by the Right Hon. Sir Herbert Maxwell (London, 1902) and
The Black Douglases
by Michael Brown (Scotland, 1998).

Sources for the minstrels include
Sports and Pastimes of the People of England
by Joseph Strutt (London, 1903) and
Fools and Jesters of the English Court
by John South-worth (Gloucestershire, 1998).

As always, I’d like to thank my wonderful agents, Lucy Childs and Aaron Priest, my terrific editor Frances Jalet-Miller, master
copyeditor Sean Devlin, Art Director Diane Luger, Senior Editor and Editorial Director Amy Pierpont, Vice President and Editor
in Chief, Beth de Guzman, and everyone else at Hachette Book Group’s Grand Central Publishing who contributed to making this
book what it is.

If you enjoyed
Tamed by a Laird
, please look for its sequel,
Seduced by a Rogue,
at your favorite bookstore in January 2010. In the meantime,
Suas Alba!

Sincerely,

http://home.att.net/~amandascott

Chapter 1

W
hat if Dunwythie has
not
gone away?” Will Jardine asked, peering through newly green foliage toward the large green field that surrounding shrubbery
and trees sheltered from winds blowing off Solway Firth. “What if he catches us here?”

“He won’t,” twenty-five-year-old Robert Maxwell, Laird of Trailinghail, said impatiently as they dismounted in the dense woodland.
The large, well-tended field was Rob’s first objective on that chilly spring morning, but he had others as well, because Dunwythie’s
lands sprawled at least four square miles, from the river Annan just west of them to Dryfe Water in the east. And much of
it was rich land for crops.

“I told you,” Rob said. “My lads saw his lordship ride off northward along the river earlier this morning.” Sternly controlling
a temper reactive to even mild opposition, he looped his reins around a handy branch as he added, “He will be away at least
until midday, Will. Moreover, we have every right to be here.”

The younger man’s eyebrows shot upward. “Have we now?” he said dryly. “Most Annandale folk would dispute that statement, including
me own da, were ye daft enough to put these impertinent demands o’ your brother’s to
him
.”

“Need I remind you that my brother Alex is the sheriff, just as our father and grandfather were before him?” Rob said gruffly,
scanning the field and noting with satisfaction that a dozen or so workers were busy there, hoeing and pulling weeds. “Sheriffs
have duties, my lad, just as every landowner does.”

“They do, aye,” Will agreed. “However, folks dinna call your brother Sheriff o’ Dumfries
shire
but only Sheriff o’ Dumfries. They ha’ good cause for that, too, as nae one here in Annandale answers to him.”

“A sheriff, by the very definition of his position, commands the
whole
shire.”

“Aye, sure,” Will said, grinning. “Ye tell Dunwythie that, me lad. But dinna be trying it on me. The trouble between ye Maxwells
and his lordship—aye, and wi’ many another laird, too—has nowt to do wi’ taxes and all to do wi’ who wields the most power
hereabouts, yon Sheriff o’ Dumfries or a laird whose ancestors have owned Annandale land for centuries. That, as ye ken fine,
be the nub o’ the matter.”

Unable to deny that statement, Rob kept silent, taking care not to trample any tender young shoots as they crossed the field
toward the workers. It would not do to give the defiant Dunwythie good cause for further complaint.

“By God’s troth,” Will exclaimed moments later. “Will ye look at that now? What d’ye think can ha’ brought the two o’
them
here?”

Rob had been watching where he put his feet as he led the way between two rows of young plants. But at these words, he looked
up and followed Will’s gaze.

Emerging from woods to the north onto what he now discerned to be a narrow path down the center of the field were two females
on horseback.

Although the two were at least a quarter mile away, their gowns, fur-lined cloaks, and simple white veils proclaimed them
noblewomen, and their figures and supple dexterity with their mounts declared them youthful. One was so fair that her hair
looked almost white, the other dark-haired, and both wore their long tresses in simple plaits. They were looking toward the
field men, and Rob was certain that neither had yet realized that he and Will—in their plain breeks, jacks, and boots—were
not simply two more of them.

Lingering wispy skirts of early-morning fog still drifted low near the river Annan as it roared along a mile or so downhill
to Rob’s left, and puffy white clouds floated overhead but did little to block the sunlight. It glistened on the still-dewy
green field, and as the two riders drew nearer, it gilded the fair one’s plaits.

“I’m glad I came with ye,” Will murmured with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“They are noblewomen, you young ruffian.”

“Ay de mi, what noblewomen would be riding out and about by themselves like those two are?”

“Dunwythie’s daughters would certainly do so on their father’s land, a mile from his castle, amidst his own loyal workmen,”
Rob said. “Behave yourself.”

“Hoots, I’ve nae wish to frighten them,” Will retorted, chuckling.

Rob grimaced, knowing his friend’s reputation with women. Glancing back at the two riders, he saw that the fair one was frowning.

Clearly, she had realized that they were intruders.

“We’ll go to meet them,” he told Will. “And you
will
behave.”

“Aye, sure. I’ll be nobbut gey charming to such young beauties.”

Rob sighed and altered his course to meet the two, hoping he could avoid trouble with Will. The Jardines being the Maxwells’
only allies in Annandale, he could not afford to anger Jardine’s eldest and best-favored son. But neither would he allow Will
to make free and easy with Dunwythie’s daughters.