The Border Hostage (12 page)

“Lord Ramsay Douglas, Border Warden of the West March, and nephew to the late Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus.”

Raven hid her surprise. Since King James Stewart had died at Flodden, the Douglas clan held all the power in Scotland. And Lord Ramsay was a Border Warden like Lord Thomas Dacre, sworn to uphold the law and keep peace. He could have no idea that Lord Dacre's heir had been kidnapped. She would make a formal complaint to him, if she was lucky enough to find him in residence.

Kennedy secured the wooden door, descended the stone steps leading from the mews, and ordered Dacre to the castle. Raven saw that the other prisoner had been taken away, and she hurried to walk beside Christopher, determined to stay close to him. Inside, there were servants everywhere, and Raven was impressed with the richness of the furnishings. Kennedy spoke to a burly steward, who nodded his understanding and led Dacre toward a studded door. When Raven tried to follow, Kennedy stopped her.

“I want to be with Christopher … I intend to share his fate!”

Heath looked amused at her dramatic gesture. “The
walls of the dungeon drip with damp, and the rat-infested straw pallet stinks with mold.” When he saw her look of outrage, he laughed. “You must think me a barbarian. I am sorry to disappoint you, mistress, but Dacre will occupy a well-appointed tower room until the ransom is paid. And you must not consider yourself a prisoner here; you will be an honored guest, Mistress Carleton.”

“You must be mad—we both know I am your prisoner!”

“If you insist.” He gave her a mocking bow. “Come, I will escort you to your chamber, so you may refresh yourself.”

Raven looked down at her disheveled state in dismay. “You devil, I have only the clothes on my back.”

“And very fetching they are,” he said, placing a proprietary hand at her back to urge her up the stairs.

She straightened her back and pulled away from him immediately, hurrying up the stairs. “Don't touch me.”

“As you wish,” he drawled, throwing open a heavy wooden door that led into a well-furnished tower. “Actually, these two rooms are mine, but since you are my honored guest, you may take the far chamber with the window and the fireplace.”

Raven saw that she was fairly trapped; she would have to enter and exit through his chamber. “I cannot sleep in an adjoining room to yours; it would be highly improper!”

“I am concerned only for your safety.”

“What about the safety of my virtue?” she demanded.

His bold eyes swept over her, assessing her. “If Dacre is your lover, you have no virtue.”

“How dare you! I demand to speak with Lord Douglas.”

“I suggest you do something about your appearance before you seek audience with his lordship,” he told her bluntly.

Raven wanted to fly at his face, but did not dare. Instead she marched into the adjoining chamber and slammed the door. A huge bed dominated the room, and knowing it was his, Raven averted her eyes and moved toward the
welcoming fire in the hearth. On the front of a massive wardrobe was a mirror, and when she stepped before it, she gasped. The black skirt of her riding habit was covered with dirt from rolling about the ground with the Borderer. Her red velvet cap sat at a comic angle, and the once finely plumed ostrich feather hung limp and bedraggled down her back. Her hair beneath the cap was in such a wild black tangle, she despaired of ever getting a comb through it again. Then she groaned, remembering that she didn't even possess a comb.

She pulled off her gloves and dragged the ridiculous cap from her head. She grabbed one of the brushes laid out on an oak chest, ignoring the fact that it belonged to her captor, and firmly brushed the tangles from her curls. Because of the dampness, the brushing made her hair look like a wild blackberry thicket, and she had to take the ribbon from the neck of her shift to fasten it back. Then she took up another brush and removed the dirt from her skirt. Finally she poured water from a big jug into a bowl and washed the travel stains from her hands and face.

Raven heard urgent voices in the adjoining room, then from a distance she heard a woman scream. She threw open the door and saw the Borderer conversing with an attractive woman about thirty.

“Thank God you're back, Heath. She's been in labor for twelve hours, and Ram is mad with worry. He's with her now, making things worse. I need you to calm him down, so Tina and the midwife and I can get on with women's business.”

“I'll do what I can, Ada.” He ran from the tower room, leaving the women to their own devices.

“Who is in labor?” Raven asked.

“Heath's sister, Valentina. She's Lady Douglas. … She's having twins, and she's been at it for twelve hours with nothing to show for it but pain and misery!”

Suddenly their identities fell into place for Raven.
Of course, Valentina Kennedy, Beth Kennedy's older sister, was
married to powerful Lord Ramsay Douglas, and the man who had kidnapped her was one of Valentina's brothers, no less!

“Have you tried giving her colewort?” Raven asked.

“Oh, God be praised, you know herbal medicine?” Ada asked.

“My grandmother taught me. Colewort steeped in wine speeds up childbirth.”

“I have no idea what it looks like. Go to the stillroom and if you find some, take it to Mr. Burque in the kitchen. He will make a decoction that Tina can drink. I must go … please hurry.”

Heath ran up to the Master Tower, but before he could knock on the bedchamber door, it was thrown open by Ram Douglas. He had a distraught look on his face, and his black hair stood on end from running his hand through it. “She's ordered me out!” Ram said incredulously. “That's the thanks I get fer hoverin' over her night and day—she's thrown me out!”

“Women like to be in charge at times like this, and rightly so. It is their domain, and you are trespassing. Ada has given me orders to distract you, and that should prove easy enough.”

Ram arched a black brow. “How so?”

“I am convinced that Dacre is paying Scots to murder Scots. I tracked down the scum who came for you and took me by mistake. I have reason to believe they are Armstrongs, an outlawed Scottish clan. I saw their leader, Mangey Armstrong, at Bewcastle, where he had gone to collect his blood money. Safe behind the walls of the English fortress, I couldn't get my hands on him. I was so thirsty for revenge, I kidnapped Dacre's son instead, and I'm holding him for ransom.”

Ram gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Ye're a Borderer through and through,” he said with admiration. “It's a sure way tae make Dacre pay, and at the same time send him a
message that we know who's behind these bloody raids.” Ram's eyes glittered with anticipation. “Let's go and help the heir write a letter that will put the fear of God in his father, then Jock can deliver it.”

“I don't want to put Jock in jeopardy.”

“No fear of that,” Ram replied. “I'm an old hand at this; let me explain how it's done. In plain language the ransom letter states that if our messenger doesn't return by midnight, Dacre will get his son back in pieces. Then set down the time and place where the exchange will be made, and the amount of the ransom.”

Heath nodded. “I'll give him two days, and make the exchange at the peel tower right on the Border at Liddel Water.”

“Good plan. Only one at a time can cross the bridge, and I insist ye have two dozen moss-troopers at yer back, just in case.”

“Chris Dacre had a young woman with him. I brought her too.”

“Double the ransom,” Ram said with approval. Heath shook his head. “I'll not take Dacre's money for her.”

Raven went immediately in search of the stillroom. A plump maidservant with a thick Scottish brogue led her downstairs, through the great hall, and past the kitchens to an unheated chamber where milk and butter were kept on stone slabs and dozens of bunches of herbs hung from the rafters. Raven had no trouble identifying the different herbs by their scent and by their appearance. Colewort was a common plant whose seeds were used in cooking to flavor soups or desserts, and Raven was relieved to find a good supply. She took out her knife and cut some dark green leaves with their sticky seeds and hurried back to the kitchens.

The castle kitchens, redolent with delicious smells, were bustling with activity. The chef in charge stood out from his Scottish assistants by his accent and his attractive, expressive face as he paced the kitchen restlessly. Raven approached him and held out the colewort. “You are Mr. Burque, I believe. Ada asked me to bring you this herb to make a decoction for Lady Douglas. When steeped in wine, the seeds …” Raven hesitated, wondering how she could speak of childbirth to this stranger.

Mr. Burque plucked the colewort from her fingers and his face became transformed with hope. “Ah, it will help the birthing and soothe her pain, no?”

“Speed it up, yes,” Raven confirmed. She watched his graceful hands as he washed the plant, placed it in a copper pot, crushed its seeds, and poured red wine over it. As he brought the mixture to a boil, the air was filled with the scent of colewort, which resembled that of cloves. He added honey to thicken the potion and to sweeten its taste, and in a remarkably short time declared it ready. He poured the steaming wine into a goblet. “Ta-da! I shall carry it for you, chérie, and we will present it together!”

Mr. Burque led the way to the Master Tower, and Raven had to run up the staircase to keep up with him. As he raised his hand to knock on the door, a long wail of distress came from inside the chamber. Burque thrust the goblet into Raven's hands and fled. She knocked loudly and the door was promptly opened by Ada.

“Oh, thank God, you found some. Come quickly.”

Raven approached the bed and found herself staring at one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. She had flaming red hair that fell about her shoulders in wild disarray. Large golden eyes stared out from a pale, heart-shaped face. Her belly, which she clutched with a shapely hand, was grossly distended.

Raven proffered the goblet. “If you will drink this wine with colewort, it should hasten your delivery.”

“If any of you give me one more filthy brew, I will throw it in your face!” Tina threatened. “Who are you?” she demanded.

“She is Heath's woman,” Ada explained. “She knows all about herbal potions.”

“Ah, thank God and all his saints!” Tina sagged against her pillows, all resistance magically swept aside by Heath's name.

Raven swallowed the denial that rose to her lips and sat down on the edge of the bed, as compassion for Tina's plight filled her heart. She steadied Tina's hand that reached for the goblet and guided it to her mouth. In the calming voice Raven used with her falcons, she set about soothing the mother-to-be's distress. “You are so brave. Twelve hours of travail is hard to bear, but that is the normal amount of time for a first birth. All will be well.” She watched Tina drain the goblet, then she handed it to Ada and reached into her pocket. “Here is a hag stone. It has great magical power. Hold it and take its power for yourself.”

Tina desperately clutched the stone to her breast, ready to put her faith in anything that might help. Shortly she rose up from the bed as a great labor pain gripped her body. The colewort was strengthening her contractions to expel the child from her womb. When Tina screamed, the midwife rushed forward and Raven stepped back. In the next moment the first of Tina's twins was born.

Ada took the baby girl from the midwife to wash it, and Tina lay back against her pillows, panting from her efforts. “Rest for a few minutes,” Raven advised, caught up in the miracle of birth. “You have the power, Tina. You must decide when you are ready.”

“Ah, Tina, your beautiful daughter has black down on her head.”

“A girl? Ram Douglas will kill me. Nay, I shall kill him, if he ever comes near me again!” Tina vowed with passion, then she was taken with another agonizing contraction
and pushed with all her strength. She clutched the hag stone until her knuckles turned white. “Surely this one is a boy … only a male could bring so much pain and suffering to a woman!”

“Ye're right, it's a lad!” the midwife rejoiced. “An' a wee redhead just like yerself.”

“Lord have mercy upon us,” Ada said irreverently, as tears of joy and relief streamed down her face.

The cries of the new babies brought half a dozen maidservants to the chamber, and Ada put them to work immediately, bathing Valentina and changing the bed linen. Raven helped Ada swaddle the babies, while the midwife, puffed with pride, went to inform his lordship. Though Tina was exhausted, she looked radiant, and glowed with happiness as Ada gently laid a baby in the crook of each arm.

Suddenly the door swung open and Ramsay Douglas swept into the room with the intensity of a summer storm. All the maids stepped back in deference as he strode to the bed. He took one look at his beautiful wife, holding their babies, and slipped to his knees beside her. “My honey lamb, how do ye feel?”

“I feel perfect,” Tina declared.

“Lass, ye were so brave; ye were in labor more than twelve hours.” His voice almost broke with tender emotion.

Tina touched his face tenderly. “No, no, twelve hours is normal the first time,” she assured him, using Raven's words.

He took her hand reverently and buried a kiss in her palm. “So much pain and suffering,” he said, riven with guilt.

“Hardly any,” she lied gallantly.

“I love ye with all my heart, Vixen. Thank ye for these precious babies.” He touched a finger to the downy tufts on their heads, then touched his lips to his wife's brow. “Sleep now, beloved, get some rest while ye can.”

Raven was amazed at how tender this man was with his wife. By rumor, Black Ram Douglas had a fearsome reputation. She listened as he thanked Ada and the other women in the room, showering them with gratitude. Raven followed him from the chamber, determined to seize this moment to lodge a formal complaint against her captor.

“Lord Douglas—”

Ram swung about and fastened his pewter-gray eyes upon her.

Raven lifted her chin and gave vent to the wrath she felt. “Heath Kennedy has taken me against my will!” Ram's eyes widened. “He
raped
ye?” “No, of course not!”