The Border Hostage (23 page)

A frisson of pleasure shimmered through her to her woman's core, then it came again and again. Her response was so instant, so hot, it shamed her. She longed for his fingers to stroke faster, and bit down on her lip to stop herself from screaming with excitement. His fingers, however, moved with a deliberate slow rhythm that made her aching need spiral tighter and tighter until she thought she would shatter into a million shards. The bud inside the pink folds of her center began to swell with passion, and just when she thought she could bear no more, it burst open like a rose coming to full bloom in the hot sunshine. She cried out, “Heath!” and sagged back against him. Raven was again wet, where she had been dry.

His arms enfolded her, and he dipped his head to nuzzle her neck with his lips. He felt humbled that this was the first time her body had known carnal pleasure. Heath knew that if he did not stop now, he would take her to his bed and keep her there all day. The hour was yet early, and their day would be long, but Heath vowed that before midnight he would make love to her.

Raven and Heath joined Valentina and Ramsay on their ride to Hawick. They followed the River Te into the dale
of Teviot, which was reputedly the most beautiful valley in all Scotland. It was surrounded by the highest craggy hills Raven had ever seen. “The vistas take my breath away and the air is as intoxicating as wine,” Raven said passionately to Tina.

“The first time I saw it, I couldn't believe that Clan Douglas owned as far as the eye could see,” Tina said. “I loved the late Earl of Angus; he was both fierce and canny. It was
his
plan that his son Archie marry Scotland's widowed queen, Margaret Tudor. Ram is very like old Angus; they shared an infallible shrewdness. If the earl could have had his way, I warrant he would have preferred that Ramsay be his heir, over his own son.”

Raven looked at the two dark men who rode side by side. The resemblance between them was marked, though Ram's features were harsher. She had felt extremely shy when Heath had helped her mount, and his possessive hands had lingered about her waist, but he had let her ride beside Valentina, and her shyness was floating off on the heather-scented breeze. Her glance moved from Ram to Heath.
Death and damnation, why am I so attracted to him? His hair is black until the sunlight strikes it, then it takes on the same blue-black sheen as the stallion he rides. … In that leather jack, his shoulders are impossibly wide.
Raven blushed at her own thoughts. She had seen him without his shirt and knew his well-muscled arms and chest revealed an unmistakable raw strength. A spiral of desire descended from her belly to between her legs, and she suddenly refused to feel shame. Instead she tossed back her hair and smiled inwardly; at long last she was becoming a woman.

Ramsay Douglas rode beside Heath Kennedy, deep in thought. Finally he broke his silence. “When I was in Glasgow, Samuel Erskine, the goldsmith, said something that has made me ponder. He informed me that Angus had left a huge sum of gold on deposit for me, and all I had tae do was produce a copy of the will.”

“Have you seen the will?” Heath asked.

“Nay. Though he's been dead two months, there's been no readin' of the will tae my knowledge. Strange,” Ramsay commented.

“Who's the earl's attorney?”

“Moses Irvine. Angus said there was always a job for a whore or a lawyer, and he dealt with only the best of both.” Ram grimaced. “I'll quiz Archie and see what he has tae say.”

As they rode down the lee side of the Teviot valley the air was filled with the heady scent of wild hyacinths, or bluebells as they were commonly known, and when the carpet of blue came into view, beneath the spreading branches of the trees, they saw a Gypsy camp. “I hoped the Gypsies would be here,” Valentina said happily. “They follow the royal court because they know there is money to be made from love potions, spells, and abortifacients, to say nothing of occasional doses of poison.”

“I had my fortune told at Carlisle Fair. A Gypsy foretold I would marry well, into great wealth and a title.”
She also predicted the path would be circuitous
, Raven suddenly recalled.

“When I had a Gypsy read the tarot cards about my marriage, I refused to believe anything she predicted but every word she uttered came true.” Tina laughed and glanced at her husband. “And I thank God and his saints every day of my life.”

“Your king died less than a year ago. Don't you think it scandalous that his queen is marrying again so soon?”

“It wasn't a love match. James Stewart never wanted Margaret Tudor. He was mad in love with a raven-haired beauty called Maggie Drummond. Only after she died did James send for his bride.”

“How did she die?” Raven asked compassionately.

“She was poisoned. Don't look so horrified; it was likely the English who did the dirty deed. The political marriage to Margaret would never have been consummated had someone not expediently removed Jamie's beloved.”

“Is power always corrupt?” Raven asked abruptly, thinking of the rumors she had heard about the Dacres.

“Of course, but it is the degree of corruption that matters. A man worth having has his own noble code of honor, but remember that a man's honor is different from a woman's. Personally I prefer a man who is a little wicked, though I abhor evil.”

Yes, Valentina is right. Wicked is most attractive, while evil would be anathema.
Raven shuddered, hoping evil never touched her.

The men spurred forward to ride beside their partners. “How are ye holding up, my honey lamb?” Ram asked Valentina.

“I am absolutely bursting with energy and vitality. Let us hope the nuptial ceremony is brief so we can enjoy the dancing.”

“Are you cold, Raven?” Heath inquired.

“No.” She knew he must have been watching her if he had seen her shiver. His closeness enveloped her and she felt precious to him. She wondered wildly if he was using his power to enchant and snare her. Then she smiled. Had she not power of her own?

Just to the east of the town of Hawick sat Cavers Castle. It was a fortified tower castle, and only its lovely setting prevented it from looking threatening. The dozen Douglas moss-troopers who had ridden a mile ahead of them were waiting outside Cavers. When the two couples crossed the moat, the moss-troopers clattered after them. The mosstroopers elbowed aside the grooms who came out to assist the guests, knowing that Ramsay and Heath preferred to help their own ladies to dismount. Usually, Cavers Castle had only a skeleton staff, but today it was bristling with servants. Royal footmen came forward to take their baggage, and Valentina led the way into the castle. They were met by a gaggle of ladies-in-waiting, most of them English, Raven realized.

The men were shown to another chamber where they
could change and quaff the dust of the road from their throats. When Ramsay's cousin Archibald Douglas, the new Earl of Angus, joined them, he was wearing his wedding finery. His skintight red silk hose were saved from looking obscene only by his rich surcoat that ended just below his groin. It was white satin, embroidered with huge red lions that constituted the arms of the Earl of Angus. Ram slanted a dark brow; he had never seen old Angus in anything save black. Ram himself donned a black velvet doublet with the Bleeding Heart of Douglas device, pricked out in small rubies.

Archie narrowed his eyes. “Do ye know, in the list of Douglas jewels I received, there was mention of a ruby in the shape of a heart, that was big as a plover's egg, but I've seen none such. I dinna suppose my father loaned it tae Valentina?”

“Anythin' Angus gave tae Tina was a gift,” Ram said. “Women are not in the habit of considerin' jewels as loans, as ye'll soon learn when ye acquire a wife of yer own. However, tae put yer mind at ease, Tina owns no ruby big enough tae choke a horse!”

A picture of Old Meg's tortoise came full-blown to Heath, and he chuckled at the sheer audacity of his grandmother. If Angus had given it to her because he had sired Lily Rose on her, she had stuck it on the tortoiseshell to show her contempt for noble blood.

“Did ye receive the list of jewels when the will was read, Archie?” Ram asked casually.

Archibald blinked rapidly. “My father died without a will.”

“Nay, he did not. Angus made his will with Moses Irvine in Glasgow, and added a few codicils last year, after Flodden.”

“Did ye no' hear? Moses Irvine died a fortnight after Father. His younger partner took over the law practice. Goldman assured me there was no will. It makes little difference, since I have always been my father's legal heir.”

That gives ye the title and two castles, Archibald.
Ram managed to smile and thump his cousin on the back. “Earl of Angus is a noble title tae live up tae, Archie, and costly too,” he added to twist the knife.
If Angus left most of his gold tae me, I warrant ye'll stoop tae any foul deed tae line yer pockets.

As other Clan Douglas members arrived in the chamber, toasts to the bridegroom became continuous. “We'd better get ye tae the church while ye're still on yer feet, Archie. Ye should not keep a queen waiting, man; she could change her mind.”

Inside Cavers's chapel, Ramsay slipped into the pew beside Tina and bent his head to kiss her brow.

She smiled up into his pewter eyes. “Archie didn't ask you to be best man, because it is too obvious you are exactly that, my love.”

Ram shook his head. “He doesn't want me that close. I might uncover a few secrets.”

Heath caught his breath when he slipped in beside Raven. She was wearing a gown of palest sea-foam green, and Tina must have supplied her with a jade necklace and earbobs that enhanced her lovely dark coloring. His heart constricted momentarily, because he knew he could never afford to give her jewels. Yet Raven enthralled him. Her image was ever before him, night and day. He had an unquenchable thirst for her. Whenever he glimpsed her across a chamber, he drew close, then when he was close enough, he must touch her. Her fragrance filled his senses; he would never get enough of smelling her and tasting her. Both the sound of her voice and her laughter aroused him instantly, no matter who was there to see. Heath covered her hand with his, and she jumped as if she had been burned.
You too feel the fire
, he thought. He stroked her hand with his thumb, then curled his fingers about her wrist and rejoiced in the feel of her rapid pulse beats.

Raven craned her neck when the bride entered to join her bridegroom before the altar. Margaret's gown was
cloth of gold and she was wearing an ornate crown, but the woman herself was a disappointment. Her figure was rather dumpy; her hair was a faded gold, her face square, her mouth hinting at self-indulgence.

“She lives at the top of Mount Dotage,” Tina whispered, and Raven had to bite her lip to keep from laughing aloud. Her eyes ran over Margaret's plain-faced bridesmaids, and it was obvious why they had been chosen. The thick-tongued Scots bishop who officiated spoke in Latin, mangling the language as badly as he did English, and Raven's attention wandered. She could smell the dank dampness of the chapel in spite of the scented candles and burning incense. Margaret, sister to King Henry Tudor, was marrying a Scot. Raven wondered what her mother would say when she found out. Kate would be scandalized. Raven glanced at Heath Kennedy and quickly banished the thought about marrying a Scot, before it could form in her head. Then she very deliberately removed her hand from his and edged closer to Valentina.

T
he voices of the choirboys rose in a crescendo as the triumphant bridegroom led his new bride down the aisle of the chapel, past the pews filled with their honored guests. Raven thought the bride looked amazingly smug for one who had just stepped down in rank from queen to countess.

The bridesmaids followed with baskets of rose petals. “A perfect English rose,” Valentina murmured.

“Aye, Archie must have a cast-iron gut tae stomach her,” Ram commented.

Valentina glanced archly at Raven and Heath. “Don't let this put you off marriage; we highly recommend the institution,” she told them.

By the time the guests filed outside into the sunshine, the bride was mounted upon her husband's gift to her: a white palfrey. Heath's grin was immediately wiped from his face as he looked at the horse. It was his, the only one of his breeding mares that he had not recovered.

“Judas Iscariot, that's my bloody mare!” he blurted to Ramsay.

“So it is,” Ram confirmed. “Don't tell me that whoreson Dacre has been here, ingratiatin' himself with the new Earl of Angus!”

“It could be the other way about; perhaps Archie has been visiting Bewcastle!”

“Christ-all-fucking-mighty!” Ram cursed. If that were true, Archibald Douglas was playing a very dangerous game. And it would certainly explain why they had chosen to get married in Hawick!

Cavers's great hall, on the second floor of the castle, was brilliantly lit and ostentatiously decorated for the bridal reception. Margaret Tudor Stewart Douglas sat upon a padded throne up on the dais next to her husband and surrounded by her courtiers. She was waiting to receive her subjects' obeisance as mother of Jamie Stewart, the new King of Scotland, and wife of Archibald Douglas, the new Earl of Angus. The earldom had been the most powerful in Scotland when old Angus was alive.

When Raven had donned the sea-foam green gown earlier, she had been self-conscious about its low-cut neckline. Now, however, she saw that all the ladies of the court were vying with each other to see who could expose the most. Of course, Valentina won hands down, for her breasts were lush and lovely from feeding her babies.

Tina took Raven's hand. “Come, I will present you to Margaret. She is shallow, greedy, vain, immature, petulant, and demanding. I am speaking of her virtues. Dip your knee, but don't give her a full curtsy.” As the two beautiful young women ascended to the dais, every eye in the hall was upon them.

“Your Highness, it gives me the greatest pleasure to present my kinswoman Mistress Raven Carleton. I was most fortunate that she was visiting when I gave birth.”