The Border Lord's Bride (33 page)

They rode through the long summer‘s twilight, and the three-quarter moon was so bright that with only two periods of brief rest they rode through the entire night. They were well into England now, and Ellen knew it. As the sun came up, Ellen realized that they were riding west across northern Cumbria. And then as the afternoon came, and she was beginning to fall asleep in her saddle, he spoke to her.

"Look ahead, madam. There is my ancestral home on the cliffs overlooking the sea. Have you ever before seen the sea?"

"I was raised in the Highlands," Ellen answered him. "No, I have never before seen the sea, my lord, but Duncan will find me no matter where you hide me."

He laughed. "Aye, he probably will, but not until I wish him to find you."

Ellen looked straight ahead. The building he claimed as his home was a small castle. It had four square towers, and was built about a courtyard, she discovered as, clattering over a drawbridge that spanned a wide moat, they entered into it. Serving men wearing badges with a fox‘s head on their black livery came quickly forth to take the horses, holding them steady for the dismount.

Sliding off his stallion, Sir Roger lifted Ellen from her horse. As her feet touched the ground her legs buckled beneath her, to her embarrassment. He quickly caught her up saying, "You have not ridden for so long a period before."

"Put me down!" Ellen said angrily.

"Your limbs are yet weak," he said as he started toward a door.

"Put me down!" she told him through gritted teeth. She drew several deep breaths so that as her feet touched the ground this time she was able to keep her balance, although at first she wobbled a small bit. But then she was fine, and followed him into the building. When they had gained his hall Sir Roger called his sergeant to him.

"Take the lady of Duffdour to the dungeon chamber that has been prepared for her," he said.

"See that she is given something to eat and drink."

"You would put me into a dungeon?" Ellen was outraged.

"For now you are my prisoner, madam," Sir Roger said to her. "Perhaps later you may become my guest, and I will house you more suitably. Now go with my sergeant."

Furious, Ellen followed the soldier from the great hall of Colby Castle. He led her down a corridor and then, opening a door, ushered her down several flights of steps. At the bottom of the stairs they were met by another man at arms carrying a large ring of keys. He took them through what seemed to Ellen a maze of stone hallways that were lit with pitch torches. Finally he stopped before a small wooden door with an iron grate in it. Taking a key from his ring, he turned it in the lock. The door opened on silent, well-oiled hinges. How long had Sir Roger been planning this? Ellen wondered.

"In there, my lady," the sergeant said. "Put a torch in for her," he commanded the man at arms.

"I was told a clean pallet and blanket, a table, a stool, a bucket, and a candle," the jailer said in surly tones. "Nothing was said about a torch."

"You‘ll not leave a wee girl like this in the dark," the sergeant said. "I don‘t think the master would like it. And bring her some water and something to eat. I‘ll wait till you do, just to make sure that you do."

"If she‘s to be coddled and cozened then she should have a place in the tower, not here in my dungeons," the man at arms complained, but he went off to do as the sergeant had commanded, for he knew the man had more authority than he did.

"Thank you," Ellen said quietly, and she stepped into the cell, sitting down upon the three-legged wooden stool, for her legs were beginning to feel shaky again.

The sergeant nodded and, coming in after her, set his torch into an iron holder upon the wall. "It will last for some time, for there is little draft here," he said.

They waited, and finally the jailer returned with a metal pitcher he slammed upon the table, and a tin plate with a hunk of bread.

"That‘s all?" the sergeant demanded to know. "The woman has been riding for over twenty-four hours, man. She needs hot food. You weren‘t told to starve her, were you? Get your skinny arse up to his lordship‘s kitchens and bring her down something hot in a trencher. I‘m going to be checking on her daily, you mangy weasel. His lordship wants her housed here temporarily, not abused and starved. She‘s worth a great deal to Sir Roger. Do you want me telling him how you have greeted his honored prisoner?"

"Honored prisoner, is it?" the jailer said. "Again I ask you: Why is she here, instead of in the guest quarters above?"

"I don‘t know," the sergeant said irritably. "I‘m not privy to his lordship‘s thoughts. What I do know is that this lady is the wife of a lord with whom our master has had a difference. He would bring the fellow to reason by holding his wife captive. But eventually he‘ll be sending her home, and she has to be as healthy then as she is at this very minute, so feed the woman, you wretched cur!"

"No need to excite yourself, Sergeant. I‘ll send my helper to the kitchens for a trencher of food for the lady." He hurried off.

"Thank you once more," Ellen said.

The sergeant nodded, but then he said, "Do not mistake me, my lady. I am Sir Roger‘s most loyal man, but I know he did not mean for you to be mistreated, despite his choice of quarters." Then he gave her a small bow. "I will leave you now." Closing the door behind him, he was gone.

The door, of course, was not locked, but Ellen did not bother to attempt an escape. She was exhausted with the very long ride, and she really had absolutely no idea where she was other than somewhere in northern England by the sea. She pulled her cloak about her. The cell was damp and chill. It was not a big space, and its stone walls were moist, the stone floor cold. There was no cup for her to drink from, and so Ellen raised the pitcher up and drank from it. The water was warmish and slightly fetid. The bread the jailer had brought her was as hard as a rock. She hoped the trencher would be better.

Her foot touched the pallet on the floor. It crunched with the sound of the straw filling it. Her body ached from the long, long ride, and the front of her gown was wet with the milk that was oozing from her breasts. Who was feeding her son? Ellen suddenly wondered. What would

happen to her Willie if she was not there? For a brief moment panic rose up to claim her, but, catching herself, she took several deep breaths to calm down. When she hadn‘t returned, and they realized what had happened—that she had been kidnapped—old Peigi would rally. She would find a healthy wet nurse for Willie right away. Her baby wouldn‘t starve. But she would need something to stop her milk so that it didn‘t continue to flow. When the jailer returned with her food she asked him.

"Have you a midwife nearby, or someone in the castle who keeps the apothecary?"

"Aye," he said. "Have you been hurt?" The sergeant‘s warning had gotten through to him, and he didn‘t want this prisoner harmed.

"I was taken from my nursing infant. I need to stop my milk, as Sir Roger has told me I am to be held for some time. My gown is ruined already."

"I could help you out," the jailer said, leering at her. "Open yer gown and I‘ll suck you dry, my lady. From what I can see you have a fine pair of teats on you."

Ellen drew herself up and glared the jailer down. "Fetch me help, or I will make certain that Sir Roger knows of your lewd behavior," she said coldly. "I expect sooner or later he will come to see me."

The jailer shrugged. "I‘ll do what I can when I has the time," he told her. Then he left her, and this time she heard the key turning in the lock.

Ellen sat down at the table. The smell from the trencher was not unappetizing, and it had a spoon in it. She began to eat—vegetable pottage with scraps of bacon, but it was hot and filling. They had given her oatcakes, and Sir Roger had allowed her sips of wine from his flask, but they had stopped very little as they fled Duffdour. Her spoon scraped every bit of food from the trencher.

Then, unfastening her gown, she got out of it, and, opening her chemise, she squeezed the milk from her swollen breasts into the trencher, giving her some relief. As an afterthought she took the chunk of bread the jailer had brought her earlier and put it in the trencher to soak. Who knew when the man would remember to feed her again?

Spreading her gown upon an end of the table, she attempted to sponge some of the milk stains from it with a little bit of water from the pitcher, using the hem of the gown to scrub at it. If she did not it was going to stink. She wiped the stains from her chemise in a similar manner, but dared not remove it. Then, wrapping herself in her cloak, Ellen lay down upon the pallet, hoping it was indeed fresh and free of fleas. She was quickly asleep, and she slept soundly for almost an entire day.

She did not hear Sir Roger by her cell‘s door. He looked through the grate at the sleeping woman, and thought she had been very brave so far. He would see in the coming weeks just how brave she could be, and he would enjoying pitting himself against the pretty Scots girl. She was most outspoken, and no coward, he had already discovered. He had called her spirited, and she was just that. It had been a long time since any woman had engaged either his interest or his lust.

If he must be forced to remain in this exile, punished for having been outwitted by a mere border lord—and the king had made it very clear he neither wanted to see nor hear from Sir Roger Colby for the interim—then at least he would have his amusement. The laird of Duffdour might eventually discover where his enemy had gone, but it would be some time before he learned of Colby Castle, which was located in a remote section of Cumbria on the sea. In the meantime he would play with the laird‘s wife like a cat with an adorable wee mousie. He would see if he could break her to his will. He had not had the luxury of such a game in some time. He briefly considered what the laird of Duffdour was thinking right now, and when he did Sir Roger Colby smiled wickedly and chuckled. It was the sound of a man well pleased.

The laird of Duffdour stood in the middle of the cottage and tried to keep his temper, but it was a losing battle. He was angry at himself. He was angry at his men. And God help him, he was angry at this poor woman and her children. And now the littlest boy with the dirty face was looking up at him hopefully.

"The lady said the laird would give me a ha‘penny for being so brave," the child said. "Are you our laird?"

"Tad!" his mother replied. Her tone was desperate.

"Well, she did, mam," the lad persisted.

Duncan Armstrong burst out laughing, unable to help it. Then, regaining a mastery of himself, he said, "I will give you the ha‘penny my wife promised you, Tad, but first I need to know all of the story so I may find my lady wife." He looked at the woman. "Your name, for I am sorry, I do not know it."

"Machara, my lord. I was wife to Gair, the fletcher, who died in the last battle with the English,"

the woman said.

"I remember Gair," the laird told her. "He made the best arrows I have ever had. We have been without a fletcher since his death. You have one son almost grown. Was he not apprenticed to his da?"

"He was, my lord, but I did not know how to approach you to offer his services. And as you see, we have fallen upon hard times without a man to support us."

"Tell me what happened, Machara," the laird said.

"Evina, my husband‘s daughter, has taken to lying in the heather, and lay with some English lads."

"It was the lord that had me maidenhead first," Evina said proudly. "He‘s got a fine long and thick cock. I screamed when he took me, but then I liked it. I still like it," she said, smiled seductively at the laird.

"I raised her," Marchara said, "but she‘s my husband‘s brat from another wife, who died. She would never listen, even when her father beat her. And now look what misery you have brought upon us, you dirty slut!" Marchara slapped the girl angrily.

The laird thought he would have liked to smack both women, but instead he said quietly, "Tell me exactly what happened. Evina became involved with the English, am I correct? Who is the lord who is your lover, lassie?"

The girl giggled. I don‘t know his name," she simpered. "His name means nothing. I care only for the size of a man‘s cock." She eyed him boldly. "You look as if you are as well hung as the bull in the meadow, my lord."

"Do not bother to flirt with me, lassie. There is no pleasure for me in traveling a road well trodden," the laird drawled.

"I heard the lady call him Sir Roger," Marchara said helpfully. "He entered my cottage and threatened to kill us all if I gave him away. And then your good lady came to heal us. She is kind beyond measure, my lord, and I am so sorry this happened. This villain stayed hidden until the lady had almost finished, and then he revealed himself. He took the bairn at my breast and threatened to cut its wee throat if I cried out. Then he sent Evina outside to tell your men the lady would be longer than expected because the illness was greater."

Duncan Armstrong turned to the girl. "And you lifted your skirts for them, eh?"

"Well," Evina said, "I knew there would be plenty of time, and they thought they would have time for a quick fuck. I took my time with them, and they never noticed. First I sucked their cocks, and then we fucked and fucked and fucked. Our Scots lads are far more lusty than the English lads, my lord. And I had a copper off each of them for my troubles."

The laird gritted his teeth as she prattled on at him. "And while your daughter was entertaining my men, Sir Roger took my wife off?" he asked Marchara, trying to control his rage.

She nodded. "He took Tad with them, and said if the lady made any attempt to escape, he would kill my son. We both believed him."

"Do you know where he had his horses?"

"I do!" Tad said. "We went up the hill behind the cottage, and down the other side six men and eight horses awaited. The lord was mean, but the lady was kind to me. She said you would give me a ha‘penny for being brave," he repeated.

"Why did you not return quickly to the house, and give the alarm, lad?" the laird wondered. But he could see how young the child was.