The Border Trilogy (7 page)

M
ARY KATE FELT EVERY
pebble and clod along the way, for her boots were thin-soled and unsuitable for walking. However, despite aching feet, her anger and frustration spurred her on. Though she did not wish to suffer the humiliation of having Douglas ride out in search of her, she told herself firmly that she did not fear him. Not for a minute did she believe he would dare to make good his thinly veiled threat—not when they were not yet wed. Still, she mused, it was no doubt wiser just now not to test his patience further. At the least, he would tease her, mock her feminine weakness in not being able to cover such a distance as quickly as a man. At the worst, she would learn something more about the man’s temper.

By the time she entered the front hall of the house, she had thrown away her hat, her hair was in a tangle, her face was streaked with dirt, her riding dress was dusty, and her train, freed of the safeguard and several times along the way having been wrenched free of grasping shrubs and thistles, was ripped and full of twigs and stickers. The door from the hall into the parlor stood ajar, so her arrival was observed by both men, seated at their ease, indulging in mugs of whiskey. Both politely got to their feet upon her entrance into the room, but Duncan, after one astonished look at her bedraggled appearance, burst into laughter.

“God’s wounds, lass,” he chortled, “but I trow ye’ve met your match and ken weel who will be master in your new home.” Tears streamed down his face. Douglas, too, was grinning.

With a small cry of fury, Mary Kate snatched up her shabby train and left the room, slamming the door behind her with wrathful energy. Seconds later, it opened again, and Douglas caught up with her halfway up the narrow stairs.

“’Tis unmannerly to walk out when you’ve a visitor, lassie,” he said with a teasing grin. “Such a display of temper is most unseemly.”

“Oh, you’re hateful, the pair of you.” She would have turned away, but he held her arm, his grip light but undeniable. Oddly, she noticed even through the thick cloth of her sleeve that his hand felt warm. There was warmth in his eyes, too, but his tone was firm.

“Mary Kate, since you have already made it clear to me if to no one else that you are not so opposed to our marriage as you have pretended to be and since your father and I have signed all the necessary papers, any continued display of reluctance on your part will serve no purpose other than to distress him. He loves you, you know, and has done only what he believes to be best for your future happiness.” Giving her no chance to reply, he went on quickly, “I know you want to tidy yourself, so I will not keep you standing here. I shall tell Duncan that you will return in twenty minutes’ time, and I trust that you will be generous enough then to tell him you have accepted my suit.”

Mary Kate opened her mouth to tell him she would do no such thing, but the look in his eyes and the implacable set of his jaw dissuaded her. To discover that border men were brutal to their women, particularly when provoked, would be entirely in keeping with what she had already learned about them, and his stern expression reminded her forcibly that he might yet decide he owed her something for what she had done to him at Critchfield. That last thought brought another, that she could place no dependence upon her father to protect her. Duncan had already turned her over to Douglas, since he had let her—no, encouraged her—to ride out alone with the man. As a result of these hasty reflections, she agreed to Douglas’s suggestion with unaccustomed, albeit reluctant, meekness, and twenty minutes later, much to her father’s vociferous delight, she reentered the parlor, freshly gowned in pale blue wool, her hair smoothly brushed and confined in a handsome lace caul.

Douglas remained only a few moments after she had formally accepted his suit, and Duncan stated then that he intended to visit some of his tenants to invite them to the wedding. “For there be little time tae arrange a proper affair, lass, though ye’ll no care about that. There be neighbor folk aplenty tae see ye proper wed, and yon Murdochs will come quick enow. Would ye…” He paused to clear his throat. “That is, shall I be sending for Sarah tae come?”

The hesitant query brought a twinkle to her eyes, for she knew how much he would dislike having his elder sister descend upon them. “No, Father. Aunt Aberfoyle would not wish to make the long journey from Edinburgh with so little time to prepare. Perhaps, however, you will write to her and explain the need for such haste.”

“Aye, perhaps,” he agreed doubtfully. “But will ye no be wanting a woman tae stand up wi’ ye, lassie?”

“Sir Adam has said that although his mother has been ill and will not undertake the journey, his sister, Margaret, may well be allowed to accompany his father. She can serve as my attendant if she will agree to do so.”

He nodded. A few moments later, he was happily engaged in making plans when Mary Kate left him to retire to her bedchamber, where she sprawled upon her bed in what Morag would call a most undignified position, to think things out. Before she realized that she was tired, she had fallen asleep, and it was nearly four o’clock when she awoke. Feeling hungry, she wandered down to the kitchen and begged an apple, which she carried out to her favorite nook in the still barren garden.

She had finished the apple and was leaning back against the gnarled old tree that had borne it, thinking that thanks to her long walk she would be stiff on the morrow, when the sharp crack of a snapping twig startled her from her reverie. Peeping around the trunk of her tree, she saw Robin MacLeod striding toward her through the leafless shrubbery.

He was a slim young country lad with tousled brown hair and a long, narrow face, the most prominent feature of which was a pair of widely spaced, serious gray eyes. Of medium height and wiry build, he was only a year older than Mary Kate, and they had been friends since early childhood, when the two of them had spent their time happily tagging after Robin’s older brothers and sisters. He came from a large and boisterous family, and Mary Kate had always been as much at home in their cozy cottage as in her own home.

“Och, Robin,” she cried, “how you startled me!”

He flung himself down on the grass beside her. “I hoped I’d find ye here. Is your father still peeved wi’ us?”

“No, he has other matters on his mind.”

“Then we can be friends again,” he said with satisfaction. “I dinna suppose we dare go night-fishing again soon, however.”

“Oh, Robin, don’t even think it.”

“Dinna fash yerself, lass. I wasna asking ye tae go.”

“No, I know, but everything is upside down. You probably ought not to be here at all.”

“What’s this, then? Ye’ve only just said—”

“I am to be married,” she said bluntly.

“Married!” He sat up, gaping in disbelief. “But your father said ye was too young. Amang other things, he said that,” he added with a grimace.

“I knew he must have been horrid to you after he sent me into the house that night.”

“Och, weel, he was that, but it could ha’ been a deal worse. He didna say anything tae m’ father.”

Mary Kate nodded, understanding his relief. “I feared he would say rather too much to him for comfort.”

“Aye, but he did tell me ye was too young for marrying.”

“Well, he changed his mind,” she said grimly. “The wedding is to take place in a fortnight’s time.”

“A fortnight!”

“Aye, a fortnight. To Sir Adam Douglas of Tornary.”

“Sir Adam Douglas!”

“Aye!” she snapped. “Do for goodness’ sake, stop repeating everything I say, Kobbie. You’ll drive me daft.”

But he was following his own train of thought. “Then ye’ll be Lady Douglas.”

“I suppose I shall,” she answered dismally, “but I do not want to be Lady Douglas. Indeed, I hate the notion, for Douglas is a borderer, and I do not wish to marry him, though in his impudence, he chooses to believe otherwise.” Her voice began to rise as she recounted her ills. “He’s truly the most arrogant, loathsome, dictatorial man I have ever met. He began by insulting me, then he laughed at me, and today he made me walk home from Braelairig in my boots. He’s not a proper husband for me at all, Robbie. Like any borderer, he will expect me to curtsy and smile and kiss his feet.”

“Kiss his feet! Why would he want ye tae do sae daft a thing as that?”

“Oh, you don’t understand. I meant that he has no respect for what I want or what I think. He has not been bred to it, and he seems to have a Calvinist streak in him into the bargain, for he thinks I ought to submit to all his wishes, whatever they are, merely because he is a man and I am a woman. And my father, though usually a sensible man, thinks the sun rises and sets by him just because Douglas is a friend of the king and has lots of money and may be an earl one day.”

“But then ye’d be a countess. Would ye no like tae be a rich countess, Mary Kate?”

She gritted her teeth. “You are just like them both. Men are so stupid. I tell you, I don’t concern myself with such stuff. I hate him and I must marry him anyway and…oh, Robbie, I am so unhappy.” The confusion and stress of the past twenty-four hours suddenly overwhelmed her, and to the young man’s consternation, Mary Kate burst into tears.

“Dinna greet, lassie,” he pleaded awkwardly. “I canna bear it gin ye weep.” He knelt beside her and put a clumsy arm around her shoulders, at which encouragement she cast herself upon his thin chest, sobbing gustily. However dumbfounded, Robin kept his head to a sufficient degree to hold her and to make soothing noises in Gaelic, and her sobs finally began to abate. He was no doubt on the brink of congratulating himself for deft management of a distressing situation when a powerful hand clamped down upon his shoulder and thrust him aside to sprawl all aheap on the hard ground.

At the same moment, Mary Kate was jerked rudely to her feet by a grip of iron. When she looked up in dismay to see the furious face of her betrothed looming over her, her tears ceased as though a tap had been turned.

“Sir Adam!”

“Aye, Sir Adam, indeed. And what the devil is this?”

“I was only telling Robbie about our betrothal.”

“I see.” His expression remained grim, but a glimmer of amusement replaced the cold fury in his eyes. “So you are young MacLeod,” he said, adding in Gaelic as fluent as their own that the boy might as well pick himself up off the ground.

Robbie nodded and got to his feet, keeping a wary eye on Douglas while he brushed himself off.

“It was not like you think!” Mary Kate cried indignantly.

“Hold your tongue, lass. We will speak of this later.” Ignoring her outrage, he directed his piercing gaze at the hapless Robin. “Do you speak English, lad?” When Robin nodded, he added brusquely in that language, Then, if you have the details of her betrothal clearly, I’ll thank you to keep your hands off her.”

“Aye, sir, ye’ve the right,” Robin acknowledged gruffly, “but like she says, ’twas no like ye think. I didna ken what else tae do when the poor lassie begun tae weep.”

Douglas chuckled, his customary good humor completely restored. “I believe you, lad. You don’t look as though you’ve had much experience With distraught females.” When Robin shook his head, he added in a confiding murmur, “You box their ears.”

“Nay!” The boy’s eyes rounded in disbelief.

“Aye, you will find that it answers the purpose admirably well. Try it. You’ll see.”

“I couldna strike Mary Kate.”

“Then it is well that you are not going to marry her. She’d rule the roast for certain. You get on home now,” he added kindly. “We look to see you and yours at the wedding.”

Mary Kate followed Robin’s rapid progress through the gray shrubbery, wondering what Douglas would say to her. He had leaped a trifle more quickly to anger just now than he had earlier, she decided. No doubt that was due to the borderer’s natural inclination to protect his chattel. She could think of no other reason for the difference, especially since this time his anger had dissipated so quickly. However, she couldn’t be certain that it had dissolved altogether, so she decided that it would be foolish to annoy him further by venting the remains of her indignation. When she realized that he still had not said anything, she wiped a lingering dampness from her cheek with the back of her hand and turned to face him.

He was regarding her thoughtfully, as though wondering where to begin.

“It truly was not what you thought,” she insisted.

“I know that, lass.” His voice was gentle. “But you should have taken him into the house as soon as he arrived. For all you may say, this place is too private.”

She hadn’t thought about that. She shot him a slanting look from under her lashes. “No one condemned private meetings between us when Robbie and I were eleven and ten. That such meetings must now be considered improper only because eight years have passed seems hardly fair.”

He chuckled, as she had intended, and she began to relax. There was one more item, however.

“Will you speak of this incident to my father?”

“Should I not?”

“If you please. If you thought our meeting clandestine—by heaven, what a dreadful word that is! But if you thought it, then so will he, and if he thinks such a thing has happened again, he will speak to Ian MacLeod.”

“The lad’s father?”

“Aye.”

“A harsh man?”

“Fearsome when he’s crossed.”

“And you feel sympathy for Robin?” When she nodded, he grinned. “Will you sympathize with me if I tell you my father is cut from the same bolt as yon MacLeod?”

“I wouldn’t believe you,” she retorted flatly.

“Well, he is. Mind you, most people think him no more dangerous than any jovial sporting man, though he was known in his youth to be one of the finest swordsmen to come out of the borders. In a good temper, he is the sort of man who cracks a jest and claps one heartily on the back. But when he is angry, he can still make me tremble in my boots, just as he did when I was twelve years old and had managed to enrage him.”

“You tremble? Never.”

“Scoff if you must, but bless you, lassie, I was like any other active lad.” A reminiscent gleam lit his eyes. “Once I dabbled in just such a relationship as that betwixt you and yon MacLeod, though mayhap not quite so innocent as that. After my father discovered us, I was sore for days.”