The Border Hostage (39 page)

“And so they were, a priceless gift indeed. I love ye, Tina.”

In preparation for her parents' return to Rockcliffe, Raven scrupulously erased all signs that a male had stayed there overnight. The big tub was moved back to the bathing room, the sheets and towels they had used were washed, the red Gypsy dress was hidden away, and Heath's bloody shirt was burned. She had no illusions that the servants, especially Mrs. Hall, would keep her secrets, but for appearances' sake Raven wanted everything to be in order when her family arrived home.

She took particular care with her own appearance. She
chose a simple dress of cream linen with long sleeves and a modest neckline. Then she brushed her hair back smoothly and tied it with a ribbon. The mirror showed her that she had achieved her objective of looking more like a saint than a sinner, and she hoped it would prompt her parents to forgive her.

She watched and waited apprehensively for the carriage, and when it arrived she went down to the entrance hall to greet her family. Raven imagined her mother had been worried sick about her disappearance and that when she saw that Raven was at home, safe and sound, her mother would be more relieved than angry. Raven, however, imagined wrong.

Kate Carleton sailed through the front door like a battleship with her cannon primed. “So, here you are at home, looking serene as a novitiate in a convent, while we have had to face the wrath of the Dacres! You are a selfish, willful girl, who has no regard whatsoever for her parents or for her poor spurned bridegroom! Have you any conception of the humiliation you have heaped upon your family, to say nothing of the Dacres' humiliation? I will never live this down if I live to be a thousand!”

Raven was forced to take the defensive before the rest of the family had even entered the manor. “I am sorry I ran off without telling you, Mother. I had no choice, and hoped you would understand when I explained.”

“Explain? Perhaps you can explain what I was supposed to say to a furious bridegroom, to a tearful Lady Rosalind, to a livid and abusive Lord Thomas Dacre! Perhaps you can explain why you ran off on the eve of your wedding, discarding a gown that cost the earth, and disregarding over a hundred invited guests!”

“I couldn't marry Christopher Dacre,” Raven protested, “because I don't love him.”

“You don't love him because you only love yourself, Raven Carleton!” her mother cried.

“Kate, let's discuss this in a rational manner,” Sir Lancelot implored.

“Rational? There is nothing rational about the girl. She has acted like a lunatic, like someone unbalanced!”

“Can we at least be civil?”

Kate turned on her husband. “You are to blame for this. You have spoiled her, indulged her, and allowed her to run wild, so that she has no notion of duty or responsibility, and on a mere whim she has ruined her family, spoiled her sister's chance for a good marriage, and turned us into a laughingstock!”

“That is enough, Kate!” Lance Carleton roared. “If you are more concerned with what people think than the state of your daughter's mind, then you are a shallow woman indeed. You have been talking, nonstop, since dawn. Kindly be quiet long enough to allow Raven to explain, and let's not stand out here in the hall like uncivilized barbarians.”

Lance Carleton led the way into the living quarters, where he and Heron remained standing until the ladies were seated. Kate pressed her lips together. No doubt her husband's remark about uncivilized barbarians was directed at her, since she had been born and bred in the Borders. When silence descended, all eyes turned expectantly to Raven.

She took a steadying breath. “Mother is right. I am to blame for everything that has happened. I knew a long time ago that I did not love Christopher Dacre, did not particularly like him even. I should never have agreed to a betrothal. I should have ended it between us. But out of a misdirected sense of duty, I thought I could go through with it and become his wife. I knew how happy this marriage made you, Mother, and how devastated you would be if I called it off.” Raven looked at her father. “I also knew you were not displeased with the match. When I began to have doubts, I tried to postpone the betrothal, thinking that if I had more time, I could grow to care for Christopher.”

Raven licked dry lips. “Postponement seemed to offend Lord Dacre, and Mother pointed out to me that you owed your appointment on the Border Wardens' Court to Dacre and we could not afford to offend him, so I compromised and did what everyone else wanted. At the time it seemed the easiest thing to do.”

“My appointment was the result of service to the Crown of England, given to me by the late king. I do not owe my position to Dacre, and a damn good thing too, since our opinions differ and our principles seem to diverge in opposite directions lately.”

“Oh, I'm so glad to hear that, Father,” Raven said earnestly. “Dacre is supposed to keep peace along the Borders between the English and Scots, but I believe he harries Scotland to keep our two countries forever divided.”

Heron jumped into the conversation. “Raven is right. I can no longer stomach the things Chris Dacre brags about to me. I know they go on raids into Scotland, reiving, burning, and even killing. I'm glad Raven finally saw him for what he is.”

“We are not discussing politics, we are discussing Raven's behavior!” Kate Carleton protested.

“All right, Mother, I'll leave politics out of it. I could not marry Christopher Dacre, because I finally listened to my soul.”

“What nonsense is that?”

“Your mother told me to listen to my soul. When I did listen, it told me that I loved another.” As she spoke the words for the first time, Raven realized it was true. She was madly in love with Heath Kennedy. “I love a Scot, and I want to marry him.”

“Intermarriage?” Kate gasped. “You expect us to countenance intermarriage?”

“Scotsmen have been marrying English ladies for centuries. Margaret Tudor married a Scot!”

“But he was a king!” her mother pointed out.

“Margaret just married Archibald Douglas.”

“Speaking of Margaret, Rosalind told me that she would be entertaining the queen shortly, and that you and she were to accompany the royal court on a journey to England. Raven, how in the world could you forgo such an honor?”

Raven wanted to tell her mother that she had already met Margaret Tudor, but she held her tongue.

Heron spoke again. “Englishmen marry Scottish ladies too. I myself took quite a fancy to Beth Kennedy when I met her in Carlisle a couple of months ago.”

Kate was momentarily diverted. “Why, Heron, Beth Kennedy is the daughter of your father's cousin. We would have no objection to such a fine match; her father is the Lord of Galloway!”

Raven's hope soared. “The man I love, and wish to marry, is from an equally important family. He has asked me to wed him many times, but I told him that I wanted your blessing.”

“It's Heath Kennedy, isn't it, Raven?” Her father's voice was terse, his face set in disapproving lines.

She refused to lie. She lifted her chin and said proudly, “Yes, Father, it is Heath Kennedy.”

“Heath? Isn't that the name of the illegitimate son that Rob Kennedy had with a Gypsy girl called Lily Rose, years ago?”

“Yes, that's the one,” Lancelot confirmed.

Raven's eyes were blazing. “Being natural born is no fault of his, and Gypsy blood is every bit as good as ours!”

“Eeew, you prefer a Gypsy to Christopher Dacre?” Lark cried.

“Yes, I do. He is a man of honor, while Chris Dacre has no honor. He was trying to seduce you. If he didn't already succeed, he soon would have!”

Lark blushed at learning that Raven knew what had been going on.

Kate looked at her daughter with new hope dawning.
“My dear, if you aspire to a match with a Kennedy, Lady Elizabeth has a son who is yet unmarried. I'm sure your father would be happy to write to his cousin and sound her out about uniting our families.”

Raven's mouth fell open as a full-blown picture of redheaded Duncan Kennedy came into her mind. Then her temper exploded. “You don't understand a thing I've been trying to tell you, Mother! You don't even listen! I am in love with Heath Kennedy. I don't care that he will not inherit the Kennedy wealth, I don't care that he is a Gypsy. Don't you understand, Mother? We are lovers! We are bound lovers!”

R
aven threw up her hands in utter frustration and ran from the room. Upstairs, she slammed her chamber door, tore the ribbon from her hair, and removed the demure cream linen dress. She pulled on her old riding clothes and boots, then ran back downstairs and out to the stables. She didn't bother with a saddle for Sully; she simply mounted her pony and galloped out to her favorite place, where the River Eden emptied into the Solway Firth.

She rode along the shore, knowing this was the only antidote to her feeling of being trapped. Her need for freedom had always been restored by a gallop along this seacoast that divided England from Scotland and offered magnificent open vistas of the sea and the purple mountains beyond. Today, however, it only served to emphasize that she and Heath were separated and were now in two different countries.

Why didn't I go with him?
her heart cried out.
He told me my parents would not listen to me. He told me I would never be able to persuade them to accept him as my husband! Heath was
right, but I wouldn't listen. I put my parents before my love for him, and it hurt him deeply.
When they reached the end of the beach, Sully stopped and Raven sat gazing out across the sea, feeling lost and forlorn, and divided from her love by a gulf as wide as the Solway. Her fingers sought the god stone beneath her shirt, and the weight of the phallic stone brought her a measure of comfort.

She looked back down the shore and smiled wistfully as memories of their first meeting came back to her. She had ridden down this beach at full gallop toward him, and he had planted his feet firmly, refusing to budge, and had laughed at her folly. She realized that was the moment she had lost her heart to him, but had obstinately refused to acknowledge the truth of it.

Raven looked down at the god stone and realized she was wearing the same shirt that Heath Kennedy had so audaciously plucked from her during that first encounter. She threw back her head and laughed with delight. Upon a few moments' acquaintance, he had actually undressed her; she should have known then that she had met her match.

Raven relived the race they'd had along this same shore, and wished with all her heart that they could do it again. If only he would appear at the far end of the beach and come riding toward her, but Raven knew it was only wishful thinking. Heath would not come back for her. She had raked his pride so deeply that he regretted laying his heart at her feet. She knew he would never give her the chance to trample upon him again.

Though a measure of calm had settled over her, the ache in her heart was unbearable. She knew that she must keep busy and occupy her mind and her hands with something that she could focus her attention upon. It was both ridiculous and fruitless to mope about feeling sorry for herself.

She went back to the stables, fed and watered Sully, then gave her black pony a good currying with his brush
until his coat shone. Then she went up into the mews, pulled on her leather gloves, and lifted the two young merlins from their perches. She took a lure with her and walked out into Rockcliffe Marsh to continue their training. She spoke softly to the birds, praising their beauty and giving them her full attention.

Raven cast them again and again, exercising the greatest of patience the entire afternoon as she gave the small falcons a lesson in hunting. More often than not, they missed their prey, but the young falconer had done a good job in training them to return to the lure. Finally, when the afternoon shadows lengthened, one merlin caught a small rodent, and the other returned with a dead mackerel it had picked up on the beach.

Instantly, Raven was reminded of Valentina's words that likened a dead mackerel to the royal court. She thought of Margaret Tudor and the whispered plans of Rosalind Dacre to entertain her. Suddenly, Raven went icy cold. Why was Margaret's visit to England shrouded in secrecy? Raven could think of only one reason. Was it possible that she was taking her son, King Jamie, out of Scotland and delivering him to her brother, King Henry Tudor? The more she thought about it, the more convinced Raven became that there was an evil plot afoot. The Dacres were involved, and to Raven that spoke volumes.

Her very first instinct was to tell Heath of her suspicions. If the little Scottish king was in danger, Heath and Ramsay Douglas would know what must be done to protect him. Raven took a deep breath and examined her motives. Was she using this as an excuse to go running after Heath Kennedy? She acknowledged that he was right, she had made the mistake of a lifetime by not going with him, but it was a mistake she would try to rectify. If aught befell young Jamie Stewart because she was too proud to run after Heath Kennedy, that would be a mistake she could never rectify. When Raven returned the merlins to the mews, her mind was made up: she was going to Eskdale!

This time she did put a saddle on Sully, and as she left the stables she looked toward the manor and scanned its windows. She did not dare go back into the house for food or clothes in case her parents prevented her from leaving. If anyone had seen her from the windows flying her hawks, they would not expect her back until almost dusk. She headed for the edge of the marsh, to give her cover, then turned Sully north, keeping the sinking sun on her

left.

Raven had no idea how many miles it was to Eskdale. Then she reminded herself that there was no guarantee that Heath was there. Her fingers closed over his god stone, and she put her trust in its power to take her to its owner. She suspended all disbelief and told herself there was an invisible, mystical thread that bound them. She had found him whenever he had called to her, and now she put her faith in the belief that it would work if she called to him.

Raven did not gallop at breakneck speed; it was a long journey and she did not want to tax Sully's strength. She stroked his neck, holding him at an easy pace, and every once in a while she bent to whisper in his ear, “Find Heath, Sully, find Heath.”