Tempted (4 page)

“You are both so gallant.” Tina smiled. “I cannot accept, but Beth would like your escort.”

Both men knew they’d been outmaneuvered and bowed to Lady Beth. “It would be an honor, mistress.”

Kirsty’s hand was at her throat as she saw Beth take both men by the arm. It was not customary for a maid to approach the head table in the great hall, but alarm made Kirsty ignore convention. “My lady, I will accompany ye, wherever it is ye wish tae go.”

Tina looked the woman up and down coldly. “Don’t overstep your bounds, Kirsty. I’m mistress here at Doon at the moment. I don’t believe Lord Carrick would enjoy your forcing yourself upon him. I think perhaps the steward would be a better choice for you.”

“But—but Beth has never been alone wi’ men,” she said angrily, as she watched her charge depart the hall.

“Then it is high time,” Tina said. “There’s safety in numbers, Kirsty. Besides, I don’t really think little Beth will arouse their carnal appetites.”

“Men don’t need much arousin’,” hissed Kirsty.

“Really?” Tina drawled, raising questioning eyebrows. “You must tell me all you know about men—sometime when you have a moment.” Tina waved to Ada at the far end of the hall. It was her way of saying, “Don’t wait up for me!”

Valentina had not ridden a mile’s distance from Doon when Heath met her. He was dressed in soft doeskin breeches and was astride an animal every bit as expensive as Kennedy horseflesh. She whistled her appreciation. “Where did that come from?”

He grinned at her and laid a finger alongside his nose. “Ask no questions, sweeting. You wouldn’t want to know.”

“Could you get me a black mare with Barbary blood?” she asked eagerly.

“That’s a tall order,” he replied.

“But not impossible?” she pressed.

“No, sweetheart, not impossible,” he admitted.

“Lovely! Where will we go tonight?”

“Wherever you fancy. Lead on.” Before the words were out of his mouth, she was off on the wind. She had plaited her long copper hair into a thick braid that fell below her waist, and it soon began to unravel. Heath chuckled to himself and let her take the lead. She had a wildness in her blood, and he understood she needed this outlet.

The River Ayr was in spate, and once they crossed over the brig, they began to climb out of the valley. The Beltane fires would not be lit on hilltops, for then they could be mistaken for the beacon fires used as an alarm system for invasion and suchlike. Tina headed toward Muirkirk, a plain stretching between the counties of Ayr and Lanark, as this was likely the closest Beltane revel. As she topped the ridge, she saw half a dozen riders coming from the opposite direction and recognized they were Hamiltons from their bright blue tartan.

She quickly brought one leg over her saddle so that their
leader would not know she had been riding astride and hoped her velvet skirts would cover the fact that there was no side-saddle.

“Valentina!” Patrick Hamilton was both pleased and concerned to find her abroad this night. He dismounted immediately and came to her side. His men stayed back to give them some small privacy. Patrick Hamilton was dark and dashing, his tall slim back straight as a ramrod with the pride of clan in his bearing. He placed a possessive hand upon her knee. “I carina believe yer out without a groom, mistress. ‘Tis Providence brought ye ma way.”

The tip of her riding boot rested almost touching his hand upon her other knee. She let him know she could kick his hand away if she so chose. The last light was fading fast and wasn’t sufficient for him to see her golden eyes, but where it touched her magnificent hair, it set it aflame. Patrick felt a strong desire to pull her down to him and ravish the mouth that teased so temptingly.

“I assume you are riding to visit the admiral,” she said “If you come to Doon for dinner on Friday evening, I’ll get Mr. Burque to prepare your favorite, Patrick.”

“Thanks, Tina, I’d be delighted. Ye know my destination, but I dinna know yours.”

“You’re right,” she said laughing

Just as Patrick was about to reach for the maddening creature, Heath topped the ridge. Patrick frowned at her escort’s good looks and wide shoulders. “Ye ha’ a groom after all,” he said, sounding most disappointed.

“Good night, Patrick, I must be off. I have a most pressing appointment.”

Hamilton had ridden five miles with Valentina Kennedy filling his senses before he remembered that it was Beltane, but as soon as the dark suspicion crossed his mind, he dismissed it. “She wouldna dare,” he assured himself.

The Kennedys had laid their plans well the previous night and had even ridden out to the perimeter of the
Douglas lands they were about to raid. The Douglas clan was the richest in Scotland, their acreage vast, their herds too numerous to count. Donal and Duncan had conceived the idea and laid it before the other Kennedys when they brought down their winter wool. Without going close to the castle at Douglas, which was nicknamed Castle Dangerous, Donal estimated they could lift about two hundred cattle and four hundred curly-horned sheep from Douglas tenants, and the best part was that the Douglas clan would blame their bitter enemies, the Hamiltons, who lived not ten miles away in the same county, Lanark.

The Kennedys had agreed to divide whatever they were able to steal and leave immediately for their own holdings, which lay in half a dozen different directions. Donal would take his share to Castle Kennedy on Loch Ryan, which he hoped would be his when he married. He would also leave a few on his holding in Kirkcudbright, overlooking Solway Firth It amused him that his peel tower at Kirkcudbright was only ten miles from the massive stronghold known as Castle Douglas.

Donal had given his men strict orders not to approach the castle, for he wanted no violent affray. This was to be a simple cattle raid under dark of night, and if their luck held, the Douglases wouldn’t even know about it till dawn.

All went according to plan, with the Kennedys content to let Donal give the orders. All except David who had a few ideas of his own. It was Davie Kennedy’s first taste of reiving, though he’d been anticipating the event for years, avidly listening to tales told at clan gatherings. He relished the brutish pleasure of wreaking havoc upon a rival. It was rumored the Douglases had an excess of ten thousand horned sheep, and this being the case, Davie reasoned their most vital crop was hay. Donal had ordered him to stand watch rather than rustle cattle and sheep, but he was boldly determined to play a more vital part in the operation. He set a torch to the hayfields, and the wildfire raced across the acres that hadn’t felt rain in over a week.

When Donal smelled smoke and heard the flames begin to roar like the wind, he cursed violently. “What reckless whoreson set the fire?” he shouted. Already the Douglas tenants were running to the scene and had no doubt alerted the men of the castle. Fire at night was more terrifying than in daylight, and the Kennedys were able to drive off the sheep and cattle in the chaos and confusion it caused.

Duncan rode up beside Donal. “Davie was posted guard over yon. It must ha’ been the little pisser.”

“Christ’s blood, I’ll skelp the skin off his arse when I get back from Kirkcudbright.”

David, elated with the successful destruction of the hayfields, moved on to the low cowsheds and haystacks against the very walls of the castle. The flames danced high, almost mesmerizing him, when suddenly the torch was dragged from his hand, brushing across his sleeve to set it afire. At the same time he was knocked from his saddle by something that felt like a thunderbolt.

The thunderbolt was a naked Gavin Douglas, who had been plucked from his bed and the soft arms of Jenna, his new wench. Davie Kennedy was lucky Gavin had no weapon to hand, or he would have been a corpse by now.

Gavin grabbed the raider by the scruff of the neck, rolled him in the dirt to extinguish his smoldering sleeve, and dragged him to his feet. His dark eyes widened as he saw the extreme youth of his culprit. He cursed that he’d only caught the runt of the litter, but as he peered about in frustrated fury, he saw none but his brother Cameron and other Douglas men whose first priority was to put out the fire before it destroyed the entire village of Douglas.

Gavin dragged his captive by the hair into the hall, which had suddenly come to life with men-at-arms and servants. As Colin Douglas limped into the hall, Gavin said, “I only caught one o’ the bastards. The bloody Hamiltons are using bairns now tae raid us.”

Colin saw the pallor of the fair-haired lad and said quietly, “I’ll get ma bandages and dress that burn.”

“Dress his burn?” Gavin shouted in disbelief. “I’ll truss him on a spit in yon fireplace and roast his other bloody arm!”

Colin said, “When yer temper cools, ye’ll realize Ram can likely ransom the bairn.”

Davie decided he’d been called
bairn
once too often. Gathering a full gob of spit in his mouth, he shot it in Colin’s face. Gavin backhanded him, bursting open his lip and felling him to the floor.

Gavin ran his hand through his tangle of black hair. “Christ’s blood, Ram will ha’ ma nuts fer this. Who was on guard?” he demanded, glaring at the men-at-arms. “Why wasna the alarm given at the first glimmer o’ fire?”

“We thought it a Beltane fire,” the mosstrooper said stupidly.

“Lazy lounging bastards—all ye are fit fer is drinkin’, fightin’, and fuckin’.” Then as he rubbed the back of his neck, he glanced down at his own naked body and recalled what he’d been doing while Douglas crops burned. “Get him out o’ ma sight. Lock him up downstairs.” He glowered at the Douglas men. “Ye’ve two minutes tae get mounted. We’ll catch them or see where the trail leads. When Ram gets back, one o’ ye will swing for this.” He rubbed his neck again, fervently hoping it wouldn’t be him.

Tina Kennedy was very excited about venturing out on Beltane. The chance meeting with Patrick Hamilton had heightened the excitement for her. Let the arrogant young lord wonder what she was up to!

She and Heath joined in the merrymaking wholeheartedly, leaping through the flames while the fire was small enough, then joining in the frenzied dancing when the bonfire was piled with brush and young trees and finally thick logs from oaks that had been felled and dragged from the forest to feed the Beltane fires.

It was the ancient rite of spring that all cultures had celebrated in one form or another since pagan times, and Tina wouldn’t have missed the exhilaration of this night for anything. By midnight, however, men and women, young and old, were either falling-down drunk or sexually aroused to the point where they tore off their clothes and copulated with any willing stranger.

Tina was visibly shocked, and Heath was quick to drag her away from the abandoned writhings. “It’s time I got you back to Doon,” he said firmly. As he lifted her into her saddle, she looked down into his warm brown eyes. “Is it always like this?” she asked in a distressed voice.

“Aye. Animals! They fool you by walking upright, don’t they?”

She was subdued on the ride home, and Heath was thankful. He never forbade her nor read her a sermon about the things she wished to do. Rather, he let her experience everything and trusted to her own good sense whether she repeated the folly.

He stayed with her until she crossed the drawbridge of Doon, then turned his Thoroughbred and galloped south.

Tina stabled her mare in a rear stall, then quietly rubbed her down and covered her with a plaid. Suddenly the bailey was filled with horses, men, and herded animals. The cattle lowed, and about fifty sheep ran baaing into the stables, setting the dogs barking and the hens flapping.

Duncan’s voice came terse and harsh to his men. “Get these bloody sheep tae the far meadow an’ the cattle tae pasture by the river.”

Tina walked from the rear stall just as Duncan lit the lantern. Her eyes were like saucers. “God’s blood, you’ve been on a raid!”

“Fold yer tongue behind yer teeth. What the hell are ye doin’ out here at this ungodly hour? Get tae bed, and keep yer mouth shut!”

Hands on hips, she was about to defy him when he raised his fist to her, and she saw he was in no mood to argue with a woman. Shrugging one pretty shoulder, she lifted her skirt and picked her way through the bleating menagerie.

Tina’s blood was high, preventing sleep, so she arose at dawn and made her way to the kitchens, unwilling to wait until breakfast was served in the hall. Mr. Burque’s face was tinged with green as he supervised the food preparation for scores of mouths while trying to keep his gorge from rising.

“Too much Beltane,” Tina whispered knowingly.

“Too much whisky! It rots the gut as well as the brain No wonder the Scots are thick-tongued!”

Duncan kicked open the kitchen door. “Christ, mon, when do we eat? Where the hell’s the pot-boy wi’ the ale?” he demanded before slamming the door.

Mr. Burque rolled his eyes. “Something’s wrong— gravely wrong Duncan is the best natured of all the Kennedys.”

“They went on a raid last night,” Tina whispered.

“That should put him in a benign mood. ‘Tis a borderer’s favorite pastime.”

“I thought that was wenching,” she whispered.

He shook his head very gingerly and said, “No, no, chérie, that is Frenchmen.”

She stole a fresh pastry from the table and said, “I’ll find out why he’s in a filthy temper.”

The Kennedys were merchants and Doon was no garrison, but they did have some men-at-arms. They sat morosely at the trestle tables in the hall. Usually their din was deafening, so Tina did not need to ask if something had gone amiss. “Well, this is a riotous company. Where’s Donal?” she asked, suddenly apprehensive.

The pot-boy’s hands shook as he filled Duncan’s tankard, and as a result the ale sloshed over the rim. “Cursed lackey!” Then Duncan told her shortly, “Donal’s away tae Kirkcudbright.”

“Let me guess—Andrew went home to Carrick, and Callum to Newark.” Tina grinned. “You divided the spoils and departed in six different directions. Duncan, that was brilliant strategy. Why are you fierce as a bear with a burr up his bum?”

Duncan looked at her bleakly. “Davie,” he muttered.

“Davie?” she repeated, puzzled. “You think he’ll rat on you out of spite for not taking him along?”

“We did take the little piss-ass.”

Her throat tightened. “Where is he?”

Duncan flared, “Why are ye forever stickin’ yer nose intae men’s affairs?”

“He’s been wounded,” she cried, running toward the stairs.

“Tina!” Duncan’s voice sounded anguished. “He didna ride back wi’ us—he’s missin’.” “Missing?” she echoed.

“Must ye repeat everythin’ like a bloody demented parrot?”

“Ride out and look for him!” she ordered. “God’s passion, I’ll go!”

“We’ve been out lookin’—as close as we dare go. I think they captured him.”

She was angry now. “Go and demand his return— threaten to pull their bloody castle down stone by stone! Who has him? Who did you raid?”

Duncan’s mouth hardened, as if he couldn’t get the name past his teeth. Finally he rasped, “Douglas.”

“The Black Ram?” she whispered, and the color drained out of her face, leaving her lips bloodless and trembling. Her gaze encompassed all the Kennedy men, and none could look her in the eye. She was both appalled and afraid. “Do you realize what you’ve done? Challenged the Douglas might?” she whispered huskily. “God’s death, why did you risk all? Our Kennedy motto is
Consider the end.
How could you be so brainless—so reckless?”

“The Hamiltons will take the fall fer this raid.” Patrick Hamilton’s devil-may-care face flashed before her eyes, and she groaned and sat down hopelessly upon a bench. “But they’ve got David,” she pointed out.

“He’s no’ a redhead like the rest o’ us. If he folds his tongue behind his teeth, they’ll never guess he’s a Kennedy.”

“He’s only a boy!” she cried. “You know what blackhearted bastards the Douglases are. They’ll torture him. My God, Duncan, you must do something—anything!”

“We’ll wait fer Donal. We’ll lie low today. Davie won’t open his mouth for fear Kennedy blood will stain the swords of Douglas. If we’re no’ careful, this raid may reap us more grief than spoils.”

Valentina avoided her sister Beth for fear of alarming her. Every half hour she climbed to the parapets of Doon to anxiously scan the horizon for a sign of Davie or any other. Fear had a tight grip upon her as she paced back and forth. She knew a need to scream, yet her throat felt closed as if she couldn’t scream if she tried. She had a very
vivid imagination that was so graphic, it made her shudder at what they might do to Davie or to every Kennedy breathing if they set their black hearts to it.

The Kennedys had had no dealings with the Douglases in her lifetime because of the tragedy that had torn the two clans apart when she was first born. When her mother had come up from England to marry Lord Kennedy, his young sister Damaris had become her best friend. At the wedding Alexander Douglas had seen Damaris for the first time and he wanted her. A whirlwind courtship resulted in a quick marriage, the Kennedys thinking the heir to the title and fortune of Douglas a brilliant match. How wrong they had been!

While Damaris had still been a bride, her husband had poisoned her in a jealous rage. Tina shuddered, desperately hoping the hatred between the two clans would not flare up to destroy them. Perhaps David already lay dead. A sob escaped her as she said a fervent prayer to Saint Jude. If Davie was alive, escape was his only hope.

The bruise-colored clouds gathered above her head and cast an ominous pall over the whole countryside. She felt caged like a prisoner, completely attuned to Davie’s condition. She knew if she didn’t do something, she would go mad. She needed to be active to release the fear, worry, and dread that clutched her heart like a mail-clad fist.

She ran down to her chamber and rummaged about her wardrobe until her hand closed upon a lavender wool gown. Valentina was superstitious and believed any shade of purple was a lucky color for her. She concealed her knife inside one riding boot, then pulled on the other and her velvet cloak and went cautiously down to the stables.

When she rode out, Tina had no conscious destination in mind—she simply needed to free herself from the suffocating walls of Doon. She rode on and on, following a direct path eastward, never looking back, never slowing her pace. She was blind to the field of bluebells through which she cantered. She was oblivious to the intoxicating scent
that wafted upon the breeze. She was deaf to the screaming peewits and the baaing sheep. Tina’s mind was obsessed with the plight of her brother. It blotted out all else.

Gradually it came to her where she was heading, and she drew rein and looked about apprehensively. She had followed the River Ayr, and though she had never ridden this far upriver before, she knew it led straight to Douglas. She rode past burned and blackened fields, saw village people rebuilding two burned huts, then rode out of the village toward the castle, which sat apart, alone and brooding

She knew she must somehow get inside, yet she knew it would be futile to simply try to ride in. She would get no farther than the guard on the drawbridge. Her thoughts flashed about, quick as mercury. She pushed her fear away from her and thought of Davie. The only certain way of gaining entrance to Castle Dangerous was if a Douglas took her inside. A plan came to her whose very audacity made her tremble. She would stage a riding accident—her own accident. She was a helpless woman, young and beautiful, surely the men of Douglas would come to her rescue. She concentrated solely on making her fall look like a genuine accident. She tangled her reins in a gorse thicket, loosened the girth strap so that her saddle slipped, then lay down upon the ground, gathering her purple velvet cloak about her body and flinging out her arm as if she had tried to save herself Then she screamed at the top of her voice, closed her eyes and waited

Almost immediately she began to wish she had not done this reckless thing. The rainstorm that had held off all morning dropped from the low sky in torrents She lay still as the deluge soaked through to her skin, making her shiver uncontrollably. Tina knew it wasn’t just the cold that was making her shiver. Now that she had done this impulsive, reckless thing, she had nothing to do but lie there and imagine what might happen to her in Douglas hands.

If she had been witness to the scene earlier, when Ramsay Douglas had returned to find his cattle lifted and his
hay and oat crops burned, she would have fled for her life. He had given his two brothers such a dressing-down that Gavin finally put up his fists and shouted, “I’ll fight ye and be damned if it puts an end tae this harangue!”

Ram Douglas in full spate was not a pretty sight. His pewter-colored eyes glittered like hard diamonds, and his dark face looked as if it were chiseled from granite. They hadn’t expected his return until well after dark. No wonder they called him Hotspur—he must have ridden a hundred and fifty miles without pause. Though he was hardened, the fact that he’d had little rest in the past three days added an extra edge to his vile temper. Next he turned his blistering tongue on the Douglas moss-troopers, denouncing them as lazy, drunken idlers who thought of nothing but their pricks. With a powerful arm he swept their tankards of ale from the table to the floor. “Not bad enough ye let the bastards lift the cattle an’ burn the crops—ye let them escape! I couldha overlooked it if ye’d had a row o’ stinkin’ Hamiltons swingin’ by their necks. I couldha overlooked it if ye’d retrieved the livestock—but ye couldna even find a clear trail! Maybe half rations will clear yer thick heads.” He’d turned on his heel in disgust, his silver spurs striking sparks on the flagstones as he went himself to find the trail. Only his wolfhound Boozer had enough courage to keep him company.

He inspected the burned huts and told the womenfolk to take their bairns to the castle until their homes could be rebuilt. Then he accompanied a small group of his tenant farmers into the fields. “We’ll replant wi’ oats and hope for a second crop. Get seed from the castle stores.”

They gave him a tally of the sheep and cattle missing, and he promised to replace the beasts.

“The sheep had all been sheared o’ their winter wool, but it were stored in the sheds alongside the hay. It went up in smoke,” a tenant told him grimly.

“I’ll send the men-at-arms to repair the houses and replant the fields. They’re on leave from patrolling the borders
for a month. I don’t want them idling about wi’ naught tae do save drink and procreate,” he said, grinning.

They watched him go, their hearts filled with gratitude. He had a black reputation for harshness, yet he was always more than fair to his Douglas tenants and their families.

The embers of his fiery temper were considerably banked when he saw with his own eyes that there was no clear trail and that the animal tracks went off in at least six different directions. Then the heavens opened, and he cursed the resulting deluge that would wash away all traces. Why the hell couldn’t this rain have fallen before the raid to wet the oats and keep them from burning?