The Border Lord's Bride (32 page)

And I am relieved to say that she is teaching me much I need to know about caring for our bairn.

Growing up with no siblings about me, I know little of bairns, but Peigi surely does."

The winter months passed, quickly it seemed that year, and then it was April. Ellen was enormous with her child, and, being petite, she now resembled a rather large, round ball. She waddled when she walked, and the child within her was very active. Her usual sunny attitude had long since vanished, and only old Peigi could speak to her without being castigated. Both the laird and his servants were cautious in their manner about her. But finally, on the last day of April, the lady of Duffdour bore her firstborn child. It was a lad, as his father had predicted, and he came so quickly that Ellen barely had the opportunity to acknowledge that she was in labor.

Howling, purple-faced, a tuft of bright red hair upon his head, William Kenzie Armstrong entered the world, his small arms and legs flailing with his outrage. He was a large child like his father, but his mother, to her amazement, scarcely felt his coming. The midwife had come hurriedly from the laird‘s village in response to Gunna‘s arrival. Picking up her skirts, she had run through the gates, across the large courtyard, over the little drawbridge, and into the house to find the child half-born, the maidservants fluttering, distressed and not certain at all what to do about their mistress, who was swearing in her northern tongue. But the midwife could imagine just what was being said, for she had heard it all many times before. Taking charge of the situation, she quickly delivered the child, and then tended to its mother while the baby was cleansed and wrapped tightly in swaddling clothes before being placed in his mother‘s arms.

"God‘s foot!" the laird said as he gazed upon his son. "How did such a wee lass give me such a sturdy bairn, wife?"

"You‘ll give me a lass next time, Duncan," Ellen said firmly. "Or a smaller lad."

The midwife chuckled as she gathered up her basket. "God bless him, my lady," she said. "And God bless yourself and the master. Ye‘re a wee thing, but you‘re made for birthing bairns. She is, my lord!" Then with a curtsy the midwife departed.

Old Peigi was helped into their bedchamber, and once she was seated the baby was put into her arms. Tears ran down her withered cheeks. "Ye‘ve done well, my lass. Verra well," she said lapsing into her Highland tongue. "‘Tis a fine heir ye‘ve given yer man, and yer grandsire would be proud of ye." She looked down at William and began to croon to him. The baby, fretful since his quick birth, quieted, his eyes closed, and he fell asleep in the old woman‘s arms.

"That settles it," Ellen said. "You cannot die, Peigi. You have another nursling to care for, and I know you will do your duty. You‘ll have help, but you must look after Willie for us. And the brothers and sisters who will follow."

"I will stay as long as the blessed Lord will let me, my lass, but you must nae count upon me.

I‘ve taught Laria well. She‘s a sensible woman. I‘ll remain long enough to see she that she does her duty as she should," Peigi said.

Ellen felt tears pricking at the back of her eyelids. She knew the effort that her old nurse had made to stay alive to see this child. When Peigi died Ellen‘s last link with her past would be gone. But Peigi meant more to her than that. This woman had mothered her all of her life; had taken her courage in hand and come down from the Highlands to serve her when Anice had proved so unreliable. Peigi was her best friend.

The spring now burst into full bloom. And once more the raiding began from over the border.

But this year it was not a great party of English borderers burning and raising havoc; it was small groups of men grabbing what they could: cattle, sheep, and a stray lass here and there, and then scuttling back to their own keeps and villages. And the Scots were following their lead.

Summer arrived, and a flux of watery bowels struck the laird‘s village. Ellen learned from Sim how many families were involved, and then made up a nostrum that would cure it. Putting her elixir into little stone bottles, she delivered them to the cottagers needing them. And within a few days the affected families were well again. But the flux had moved beyond the village, afflicting several cottages beyond the village. Dutifully Ellen made up another batch of her potion and, riding out, delivered it to the clansmen and-women in need. She returned several days later to check on her patients.

In the last cottage, one located several miles from Duffdour Keep, she found a woman with several children ranging in age from an infant to several unruly lads, and a nubile young girl who looked to be about fourteen. All the children were ill but the girl, and Ellen feared most for the infant, who looked to be the age of her own Willie. The two men at arms with her waited outside while their lady hurried in with her basket of medicines. Examining the boys, she turned with an encouraging smile to the woman. "I‘ll give you some herbs and an elixir for them," Ellen told her. "You must see that the bairn keeps nursing. They should all be fine in a few days. This flux has just about run its course through the village. Where is your man?" she wondered curiously.

"Died," the woman said shortly. "In the last raid the laird made on the English."

Ellen nodded, wondering if the woman‘s husband was the baby‘s father.

"My lady…" The cottage wife hesitated, and then said, "I‘m sorry!"

"Sorry?" Ellen replied. "For what are you sorry, woman?"

The girl by her side snickered, looking sly, and the woman burst into tears.

"I had no choice, my lady," she burbled. "They said they would kill my bairns! I had no choice!

‘Twas the lass who brought them on us, my lady! The baggage has made a whore of herself for a few ha‘pennies to buy ribbons from the peddler who travels this way during the year. Forgive me, my lady!" And the woman fell sobbing to her knees at Ellen‘s feet, clasping her bairn with one hand, the other grasping at Ellen‘s skirts.

A cold chill ran down Ellen‘s spine as she heard a vaguely familiar voice. "I have been waiting for you, madam." Turning, she faced Sir Roger Colby, who stepped from the farthest shadows of the cottage. "Cry out, madam, and your men will be dead." Then he said to the girl, "Go outside and do what you do best, wench, but see those two well occupied. Tell them your mistress has more to do here than she anticipated and will be a while longer. Keep them happily entertained, and I‘ll have a bright silver penny for you the next time we meet. I have been good to you, haven‘t I?"

"Aye, my lord," the girl replied, and quickly slipped through the front door of the cottage, not opening it wide enough for Ellen to see her men, and closing it quickly.

"Now, madam, so we understand each other. I have a rather large score to settle with your husband, and so you will come with me now," Sir Roger said.

"Why would I do that?" Ellen said coolly. "You are alone, and I have two armed men outside the cottage door."

"Think, madam," Sir Roger said. He was an elegant man of medium height and of an

undetermined age. "I have managed to seduce the rather foolish lass belonging to this cottage into betraying her family, and into betraying you. If you do not come with me willingly I will personally slay every inhabitant here, and then force you to come with me. Shall I start with this puling bairn?" he asked her, swiftly snatching the infant from its frightened mother. The baby howled loudly.

"My lord, give the infant back to its mam, and let us discuss this in a reasonable fashion," Ellen said. But she was truly afraid. "What do you want of me?"

"Your husband has caused me to lose favor with my king, and so I must repay him in kind by taking something he treasures. You are the laird of Duffdour‘s weakness, madam," Sir Roger told her with a small, cold smile. "All know it."

"I have a child," Ellen said. "My son will die without my milk."

"Even better," Sir Roger answered her.

"Duncan will come after me," Ellen said.

"He will not find you until I wish it, and then when he comes I shall kill him. I made a grave error with your husband, madam. I underestimated him. I was not aware that he had both intelligence and a natural ability to lead men. And that mistake has cost me King Henry‘s favor, for I was charged with keeping this section of the border in an uproar. Because of your husband, I failed. But he will pay the price for thwarting me, madam. Now take up your cloak and follow me. Just over the hill behind this cottage my men are waiting for us." His knife pricked at the baby‘s small arm, drawing a drop of blood forth. The child howled louder, and its mother whimpered, anguished, her eyes pleading with Ellen to do something.

"Very well, I will come with you," she said to him. And once outside she would run shrieking for her men to come to her aid.

Sir Roger handed the infant back to his mother and, walking over to where the woman‘s three older sons lay abed, reached out and yanked the smallest up from the bed.

"This lad comes with us," he said. "When we have reached the safety of my men I will let him go." He looked at Ellen. "If you should attempt to scream or run, madam, I will slit the boy‘s throat without hesitation, and I will come back to see all here are slain. Do you understand me?"

The cottage wife moaned, low, tears pouring down her face as she clutched her baby to her breast. Her desperate eyes pleaded with Ellen. "I‘m sorry! I‘m sorry!" she whispered.

"‘Tis not your fault," Ellen said quietly. "Do what this villain says, and do not fear. I won‘t let him harm your lad. And the laird will find me and kill this English bastard who very much needs killing."

Sir Roger barked a sharp laugh. "I have always enjoyed women with spirit," he said. Then he rounded on the frightened cottager again. "You and your bairns will remain here in your home until your slut of a daughter returns from entertaining the lady‘s two men." He moved cautiously to the small window by the door and peeped out. A smile creased his face, and then he said,

"There is nothing like the enthusiasm of youth, madam, is there? She is sucking his cock for all it is worth right now. Your man will give her a good ride, for the little bitch has a talent for keeping a manhood going for longer than he thinks he can. All my men have said it, and I have

experienced it myself." He moved away from the window. "Remember what I told you, woman,"

he warned her. Then, his hand firmly grasping the neck of the lad‘s shirt, he directed Ellen to the rear entry of the cottage and out the door. "Hurry!" he hissed at her. "Up that small hill, madam.

Do not dally. I will kill this little Scots vermin if you make any attempt at escape, or try to delay us. We must be gone from this place quickly. We are near enough to the border to be over it before that little trollop finishes with your men."

The day was a gray one, and the skies were darkening with the approach of a rainstorm. There was just enough of a wind blowing to take the edge off of the silence. Ellen did not dare slow her pace, for she truly feared for the life of the boy with them. She didn‘t doubt for a moment that Sir Roger would murder the lad in cold blood, given the excuse to do so. They reached the crest of the hill, and at the bottom on the other side several men waited with horses.

Reaching them, Sir Roger flung the boy at his men, instructing them to hold on to him for the moment. Then he forced Ellen to mount one of the animals. Turning around to look at the boy in his men‘s custody, he bent and spoke face-to-face with the lad. "Go home and tell your mam that Sir Roger Colby keeps his word. Enter into the cot through the same door we exited. And remind your mam she is to give no alarm until your sister returns from the chore I set her to, boy. Do you understand me?" His fingers dug into the boy‘s small arm as he glared at him menacingly.

The little boy, who was no more than five, nodded, frightened. A small sob escaped him.

"You remain here until we are gone from your sight," Sir Roger finished.

The boy nodded again.

"Stop frightening the lad," Ellen said, irritated. "Don‘t be afraid, laddie. It‘s all right. No one will harm you. Wait just a bit, and then do as Sir Roger has instructed you to do. Tell the laird the lady said to give you a ha‘penny for being so brave." She smiled down at him, and the child looked less fearful now.

Sir Roger mounted his own stallion and, taking the lead rein to Ellen‘s horse, signaled his men forward. The lad barely had time to scramble out of the way of the animals‘ hooves. Ellen turned to be certain he was all right, but he had not been harmed.

"You have a soft heart for the bairns," Sir Roger said.

"And you are a bully intimidating helpless women and children, turning an innocent lass into a whore," Ellen said.

"The cottage wench?" Sir Roger laughed. "The lass was more than willing to spread herself for a bit of coin. I had her first, and she was a virgin. She yelled most satisfactorily when I took her maidenhead, as I recall. My men enjoy her greatly. She‘s an adventurous little trollop, and more than happy to do whatever you want of her. In time she will give Agnes Carr over at Cleit a run for her money."

"Agnes, I am told, has a kind heart," Ellen responded. "That lass has no heart, that she could betray her family and her laird. When you get your ransom from my husband I will see the girl is taught better than you have taught her."

"I don‘t want a ransom from Duffdour," Sir Roger said as they rode along. "I want your husband to suffer with the loss of you, as I am suffering from the loss of my king‘s favor and approval. I do not need gold or silver, madam."

"Duncan knows where Devil‘s Glen is located. I believe he paid you a visit several years ago, but alas, you were not home, so he took what he came for and returned to Duffdour," Ellen said sweetly. "I believe he will do the same thing again, but if he finds you in residence, my lord, he will probably kill you."

Sir Roger laughed. "God‘s nightshirt, madam, you are a spirited little creature, but this is just the beginning of our acquaintance. It will be interesting to see whether I can break your spirit, or if you are capable of keeping it as we get to know each other better. We are not going to Devil‘s Glen. Wily foxes always have more than one den in which to hide, and I have several. I do not believe any of the others are known to the Scots, but time will tell us that, of course."