The Border Hostage (20 page)

With a purple face he poured the piss from his boots and jammed his feet into them. “Carlisle!” he bellowed. “God's passion, how I loathe an' hate this bloody English town! Carlisle is where all my misfortune began. Carlisle is where I met her; Carlisle is where I wed her. The curse follows me, no matter where I go!”

“We guarded the cargo wi' our lives, my lord. We know the English canna be trusted. They must ha' thrown a lit torch down the hold.”

“Nothin' good ever come outta England; the evil swine are no' satisfied tae steal our superior Scots wool; nay, they'd rather destroy it and my merchant vessel that puts their scows tae shame.”

Duncan ran his hand through his hair again. “We'll have tae buy another ship. What the hellfire will that cost us? The crew can forfeit their wages fer a month.”

The first mate began to breathe easier; he had expected to be fined a year's wages at the least.

“Never fear, we'll take this tae the Border Wardens'
Court when it sits next month. Ramsay Douglas is Warden of the West March; he'll get us compensation fer our vessel
and
our fleeces!” Rob vowed. “Bloody Dacre is Head Warden of the English Marches, and his job is tae keep the peace!”

“What use is he when Scottish merchant vessels are burned right under his nose?” Duncan demanded.

“An' yer muckle-headed mother wants tae wed ma wee lass Beth tae Dacre's arrogant son! Duncan, you go an' see aboot gettin' us another ship. I'm off tae the Rickergate tae issue yer mother an ultimatum; it's high time Lizzie was brought tae heel!”

When Raven awoke in the morning, she found herself alone and immediately began to panic. Heath had treated her burns and kept her pain at bay; she couldn't manage without him! She looked at her bandaged hands, and the moment she lifted them from the pillow, they began to throb. The sound of the tower door opening filled her heart with joy. When Heath came through the adjoining doorway, Raven realized she had never wanted anyone as much as she wanted him at that moment. She held up her hands. “The pain is back,” she said helplessly.

“I know. That's why I went out early to cut some hemlock. The bruised leaves laid on your burns will have a cooling effect. They will take away the pain and inflammation as well as prevent the blisters from becoming infected.”

Raven heard the compassion in his voice and sighed as he propped her up against the bed pillows. She held out her hands trustingly so that Heath could remove her bandages.

“Don't look down at the burns; look at me, Raven.” He dipped the hemlock leaves in cold water, bruised them with his fingers, then laid them over her palms. “See how cool that feels?”

“Ohhhh, ohhhh, that feels so good,” she whispered. “My grandmother warned me that hemlock can be deadly if taken internally, but she didn't teach me its benefits.”

Heath thought,
My grandmother is an authority when it comes to poison.
“We'll leave these on for an hour and redip them to keep them moist. Then we'll put on a fresh layer of alkanet ointment and rebandage them. Perhaps as early as tomorrow we can start coating the burns with honey.”

“Honey is reputed to heal without scarring. Does it work?”

“We shall use our combined power to make sure that it works,” Heath assured her.

“I can still taste and smell the terrible smoke.”

“It is in your hair, Raven. When you are feeling up to it, I will wash it for you.”

She was about to protest, when she realized that he would have to do everything for her—wash her, dress her, feed her. She knew that she should insist upon a maidservant to tend her, but in her heart she did not want one; she wanted Heath.

“I was able to let Sultan and Sheba fly to safety; were they lucky enough to get all the horses out?”

Heath hesitated. Raven had given him her trust, and he decided that he could not lie to her. “A couple died from the smoke, a few had their hair singed, but the men did a miraculous job. It will take some gentle handling before the horses get over their fear; they'll spook easily.”

“How did it start? Was it an accident?” she asked hopefully.

“I doubt it. I believe it was set.”

Raven closed her eyes.
Dear God, Chris Dacre swore to avenge his kidnapping with fire and sword!
She pushed the horrendous thought away from her. Christopher had only been released the night before the fire; there was no way he would risk returning to Eskdale.
No, but the Dacres are powerful enough to hire henchmen to do their dirty work for them.
Raven forced her mind to cease all evil thoughts. She
would most likely become Chris Dacre's wife within the year. Ugly, unfounded suspicions could ruin any chance their union had for happiness.

Heath had just finished rebandaging Raven's hands when Valentina and Ada came to see how the patient was faring.

“ 'Tis easy to see why my brother has lost his heart to you. It is because you have identical reckless personalities. Where did you find the courage to save your falcons?”

“I had no choice. I knew the men couldn't spare them a thought when the lives of their horses were at stake.”

“No good deed shall go unpunished, Raven. Is the pain very bad, love?” Ada asked with genuine sympathy.

“It was … but Heath has made it bearable,” Raven admitted.

“He has the power to heal,” Tina said proudly. “You have identical personalities; perhaps you are even soul mates.”

“Stop wishful thinking, Tina. I know you'd like her for your sister-in-law, but I have to woo her and win her before there's any chance of our becoming soul mates.”

Though Heath's tone was light and teasing, Raven suddenly realized that they all wanted her to stay. She felt gratitude and guilt at the same time. Gratitude because they had made her feel like one of the family; guilt because she intended to leave.

“Ram is off to Glasgow for some of the gold he has on deposit. Not only do the stables need immediate repair, but he wants money to recruit more moss-troopers.” Tina bent and kissed Raven's brow. “I hope you feel better soon, love. Come and see the babies when you feel up to it.”

As they were leaving, a serving maid brought a breakfast tray. Heath took it from her and asked her to bring enough food for two for the next few days. Then he sat down, put the tray on the bed, and lifted a cover. “Traditional Scots breakfast. Do you like porridge?”

Raven wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “Porridge is porridge.”

“Porridge is porridge except when Mr. Burque makes it. Then it is ambrosia, fit for a goddess.”

There was a jug of yellow cream and a dish of golden syrup which Heath poured liberally on the oatmeal. Then he dipped in the spoon and lifted it to Raven's lips. The act felt so intimate that she blushed when she opened her mouth for him.

“Ah yes, I can clearly see what you had for dinner last night. I see a salmon and a wood duck swimming about.”

Raven laughed and the awkwardness was gone. “As well as feeding me, you are going to entertain me. And you were right, this is ambrosia. No, no, don't take the spoon away so quickly, let me lick off the syrup.”

He held up the spoon and smiled into her eyes. “Lick away.”

Her blush was back. Her thoughts were sensual. Now that she was deprived of her tactile sense, she suddenly had an urge to touch things and experience what they felt like. Her glance roamed over the dark shadow on Heath's cheeks, and she wanted to run her fingertips across his morning beard. Her glance lowered to his cream-colored shirt that was such a contrast against his tanned skin, and her fingers itched to feel the rough linen. Then, from beneath her lashes, her glance slid across the smooth black calfskin that covered his thigh. She licked the syrup from her lips and swallowed hard.

Beneath the next cover was a platter of eggs, potatoes, and lamb kidneys. Raven shook her head. “You eat it, please.” She watched Heath with pleasure as he devoured the food. He had a man's healthy appetite, and he appreciated the artistry of the chef's superior talent in both the cooking and the presentation. Mr. Burque also had sent up freshly baked scones with strawberry preserves, and when Raven saw how much Heath was enjoying them, she decided to try one.

Heath offered her a bite of his, and she took an extralarge mouthful. “Greedy wench,” he teased, delighted that
she felt well enough to eat at all. When the food was finished, he set aside the tray and said matter-of-factly, “Do you want to get dressed?” The look of apprehension on her face told him clearly that she was not yet ready to have him remove her night rail and put her clothes on for her. He opened the wardrobe, selected a garment, and brought it to the bed. “Instead of struggling with a dress today, why don't you put on this bed robe? It's quite respectable enough to wear while you visit the babies.”

Raven rewarded him with a look of gratitude, which gave him pleasure, but he knew that shortly she was going to have to get over her modesty. “Your hands should be pain-free for the next few hours. I have to see to some of the horses, but I will go to the stillroom and mix you some poppy and licorice root for later. When you are in pain, the hours of the night can be endless.”

Raven felt a stab of fear at letting him leave, but crushed it down. She would need him much more throughout the long hours of twilight, dusk, and night. “Heath, thank you for helping me.”

“You make me feel quite gallant,” he teased, then he sobered. “We will get through this bad time together, Raven.”

When she was alone, her thoughts seemed to chase each other in circles. She thought about Christopher Dacre and how unchivalrous his behavior had been on the night she had tried to free him; however, she refused to believe that the fire was in retaliation for holding him to ransom. It must have been an accident, though Heath had made it clear that he thought otherwise. And Ramsay Douglas intended to recruit more moss-troopers, so he too must believe it was a deliberate act of arson. She wished with all her heart that the English and the Scots would cease their hostilities and put an end to their mutual acts of violence. Since she had been here in Scotland, she had come to realize there were absolutely no differences between Scot and Englishman. Nationality did not matter
one jot. People shared the same hopes and fears, felt pain, envy, jealousy, and love, no matter their heritage, their age, or even their gender. Human beings were human beings the world over.

Raven's thoughts were interrupted by two maidservants who carried in a slipper bath and a pile of fresh towels. They both expressed sympathy about her burns, and one of them picked up the singed and blackened gown she had worn. “Is it true that Heath Kennedy rescued ye from the fire?”

“Yes, he saved my life,” Raven confirmed.

“He is so courageous, and so handsome.” Both maids sighed as if the mere thought of the dark Borderer made them weak with longing.

“I apologize for not making my bed or tidying up the chamber.” She held up her bandaged hands, feeling completely useless.

“Heath has informed us that you must do nothin' but rest for the next few days.” The maids looked at her as if she were the luckiest female in the world to be in his keeping.

After they left, Raven felt her cheeks burning. Not only had he instructed them to bring the bathing tub, it must have been obvious that he had removed the door from its hinges, and quite apparent that he had not slept in the other bed last night.
Splendor of God, what must they be thinking?
Her inner voice answered her:
They are thinking that Heath Kennedy is my lover, and would willingly trade places with me, burned hands and all!

R
aven spent the early afternoon hours with Valentina and the twins. As she had foretold, when they rang the bell that hung from the window overlooking the lake, the pair of swans came gliding up, eager to be fed.

“Oh, I am so glad the fire didn't frighten them away,” Tina said happily, then quickly looked at Raven with sympathy. “But I am sorry your falcons are gone. It must be most upsetting for you.”

“I am infinitely thankful that they escaped the fire, so I am not unduly upset. They know how to hunt for their food, they have their freedom, and they have each other. Sultan and Sheba will soon revert to their wild ways.”

When Tina declared that it was feeding time for her own little swans, Raven went back to her chamber to give Tina privacy. She was surprised, yet secretly pleased, when Heath returned in midafternoon. Her pulse became erratic when she thought of his promising to wash her hair, and wondered just how they would go about the business. She half hoped he had forgotten, but almost immediately
the servants arrived with hot water and filled up the bathing tub.

Heath closed the door behind the servants when they left, then turned to Raven, studying her with intense eyes, as if trying to read her thoughts. When he saw her look of apprehension, he realized immediately that she would decline, and knew he would have to firmly take the decision upon himself.

“Washing your hair will rid it of the offensive smoky odor, and the easiest way will be to bathe you at the same time.”

“Heath, I don't think I can,” she said faintly.

“Raven, don't turn all prudish and prim on me. I know how shy you are feeling at this moment, and I will do my very best to preserve your modesty, but I am giving you absolutely no choice in the matter.” He went to his trunk and removed a garment. “Since you once very generously lent me your shirt, I am now going to return the favor and let you wear one of mine.”

Very deliberately, his fingers unfastened the neck of her bed robe, then he took her to the bed, bade her sit, and sat down behind her. He reached his hands around her and slowly drew off the robe, taking extra care with her bandaged hands as he pulled off the sleeves. Raven was now down to her white night rail, and without hesitation, Heath reached to unfasten the row of tiny pearl buttons that ran from her neck to her navel. When he tried to lift it off, she held her arms close to her body, preventing him.

“Raven, don't you think I've imagined what your body looks like a thousand times over?” he murmured.