The Spitfire (17 page)

“I have no other choice now, my lord,” Arabella said, hating the weakness that caused a tear to slide down her cheek. It seemed to her that she was more tired now than she had been yesterday evening.

“Ahh, lassie,” he said, feeling unaccountably moved by that single tear. “Dinna weep. Ye would break my heart, and I am nae a cruel man.” Reaching out, the earl brushed the little tear away with his finger.

Arabella’s green eyes widened at the gentle touch. She would not have thought this big man with his fierce dark brows, set in a face whose angles and planes made it seem harsh, had a soft side. Her lips parted with her surprise, for that simple touch was sending further ripples down her backbone.

Whatever happened, Tavis Stewart thought to himself, he had to have a kiss of her. He was astounded with himself, but she was totally delectable, and he could not resist. Leaning forward, his hand cupped her little pointed chin tenderly and his mouth touched hers.

He was going to kiss her!
She knew it, and yet she could not resist him as his lips touched her. She had never been kissed. Not even by Jasper. With an instinct as old as woman herself, Arabella’s lips softened beneath his mouth. The kiss deepened, and she only realized it when she fell back upon her pillows, feeling the down give beneath her even as the passion suddenly ignited between them began to mount in its intensity.

What was happening to her? Arabella thought fuzzily. This man was her enemy, for all she must wed him, and yet she was wantonly accepting his advances. She had never thought about kissing Jasper Keane, but neither did she consider refusing Tavis Stewart.
What was the matter with her?
Marshaling every ounce of self-discipline she possessed, Arabella pushed the earl away, sputtering angrily, her hands slapping at him. “Villain! How dare you!”

The earl was not so bemused by the sweetness of the kiss that he had not realized it was her first kiss, no matter how agreeably she had accepted his lips, or now how volubly she protested the action. He caught her hands in his, and with maddening charm, kissed them. “I think, lassie, that I would dare far more were ye nae so sweetly innocent. Ye will wed me, won’t ye?” and he smiled as she nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Then I will leave ye now, for if I stay longer there are those who will believe I have had yer maidenhead of ye. Yer old enough to wed, Arabella Grey, but I dinna think yer experienced enough to be a wife yet. Sleep well, lassie,” and he arose from the bedside.

“I would have love!” Arabella cried to him. “I do not even know ye, my lord.”

“Ye did nae know Sir Jasper either, lassie,” Tavis Stewart said.

“Nay, I did not,” Arabella agreed, “and see what kind of a villain he turned out to be!”

“
Touché
, lassie.” The earl chuckled, grinning ruefully. He continued, “But I promise ye I hae no such skeletons in my cupboard.” Then he was gone out the door.

Flora returned, smiling broadly. “They say in the hall that yer to wed wi’ the master on the morrow, m’lady.”

“Aye,” Arabella said thoughtfully.

“Thank God!” Floraexclaimed with a broad smile, and then she pulled her trundle from beneath Arabella’s bed.

The serving woman was quickly asleep, but Arabella lay awake for a time. She had gone wandering about the castle with Meg this afternoon, and her friend, with a giggle, had pointed out a little-used postern gate nestled into the walls of the castle courtyard which was used by the servants to sneak out and meet their lovers. The gate was rarely locked.

Arabella had been given that day a light woolen skirt, a silk shirt, and a plaid shawl to replace her own gown, which was far too elegant for daily life at Dunmor. In a few days, she had been told, she would have a more suitable wardrobe made for her. Her simple clothing and her knowledge of the postern gate would aid her in her escape. She had not intended attempting an escape so soon, but the earl’s determination to marry her in the morning left her with no other alternative.

If she braided up her long hair and used her shawl to hide her features, she just might be able to escape the notice of the guards upon the wall. She would appear to be just another serving girl, slipping out in the early morn for a quick assignation before she took up her duties for the day. A servant taking advantage of the excitement generated by the earl’s wedding. All she had to do was not allow herself to sleep too deeply despite her weariness.

Arabella dozed on and off throughout the long hours of the night, forcing herself back to consciousness whenever her body was tempted to relax into deep sleep. It would take her longer to walk back across the border to Greyfaire than it had taken to ride across the Cheviot hills, but if she could just have the benefit of an early start before they discovered her gone, she might hide from the Scots whenever she heard their horses. They would seek to recapture her, she knew, but the advantage would be hers!

She had a score to settle with Sir Jasper Keane. The man was a damned fool if he thought she would allow him to take Greyfaire away from her by marrying her mother; and his talk of her “dishonoring” was just that. Talk. And even if the earl and his entire troop of borderers had raped her in sight of the keep’s walls, it still did not change the fact that it was she, Arabella Grey, who was the heiress to Greyfaire. King Richard had sent Jasper Keane to wed with her, not her mother. It was hardly her fault, Arabella considered, that she had been carried off by the Scots, but it was certainly SirJasper’s problem that instead of rallying the keep and following after the Scots to rescue her, he had turned coward and attempted to steal her inheritance by marrying Lady Rowena before the Scots were barely over the hill with their captive. It had been Jasper Keane who had first called her a spitfire, but he didn’t know the half of it. She would give him a dressing-down the likes of which he had probably never had in his entire life. Cousin Richard was going to learn just how loyal his
parfait
knight actually was. It was obvious that Sir Jasper had more an eye for his own good than for the king’s good. A man like that was no asset to a border keep as strategic as Greyfaire, and Arabella intended telling the king so. She was not frightened by the earl’s thought that Jasper Keane might do her harm should she return to Greyfaire now. He wouldn’t dare!

Anxious for the morning, Arabella slipped quietly from her bed and across the room to peep out the narrow little casement. Behind her Flora snored lustily, and Arabella thought that a troop of horses could not awaken the sleeping servant before her accustomed sunrise hour. Peering through the window, Arabella saw that though the top of the sky was yet black as pitch, the edges of the horizon were beginning to grow gray with the coming day. Arabella slowly crept across the chamber and lifted the lid on the storage trunk, pulling her few garments out.

Silently she put on the silk shirt and drew the dark wool skirt up over her chemise to fasten it at her narrow waist. Sitting down upon the trunk, she pulled on a pair of knit stockings, but her shoes she stuffed into her skirt pockets so she might move through the castle proper more quietly. Carefully, Arabella braided up her hair, using her tortoiseshell pins to fasten the braids most tightly so that they should not come down and betray her. Finished, she tiptoed back over to her bed and took one of the fine down pillows, tucking it beneath the coverlet so that it would appear to a quick glance that she still slept there. Satisfied with her handiwork, Arabella moved back to the window to see a wider band of pale gray inching up the horizon while the sky above it was now ash-colored.

It was time!
Quietly she slipped from the bedchamber, moving across the narrow space of floor separating her from the hall door. She felt the handle beneath her clammy fingers, and turning it, Arabella drew the door open just wide enough to slip through to the landing beyond. She drew the door shut as quietly as she might and then stood for a long heart-pounding moment listening, but Flora’s snores never wavered in their rhythm. Convinced she had not awakened the servant, Arabella almost flew down the steep staircase to the hallway below.

Cautiously she looked about, and then seeing no one, swiftly hurried through the castle until she at last reached the small, unobtrusive door that led into the castle’s courtyard. Pulling up her shawl over her head, Arabella slipped out the door and across the courtyard in the half shadow, heading directly for the little postern gate. She could not believe her good fortune in having encountered no one so far. In a short while the entire castle would be stirring with preparations for the wedding.

Reaching the gate, she slipped the bolt, and the gate opened out with a faint creak that set her heart hammering wildly, for in the silence it sounded uncommonly loud and she was sure someone had heard it. Without a backward glance, however, Arabella boldly stepped through, and slipping on her shoes, hurried across the narrow little earthen dam that stretched across the watery moat. In times of war the dam was broken so that the castle’s only access was its drawbridge.

Arabella never stopped her forward movement, for she knew that should she hesitate for even a moment, she could draw attention to herself and risk being recognized and recaptured. Above her she could hear the watch upon the walls, but no one cried out an alarm, and Arabella was torn between weeping with joy and shouting her relief.

Ahead of her she could see the faint beginnings of the sunrise, and so she turned onto the path leading south, which was to her right. If by nightfall the sun had moved to her right hand, then she would know she was still headed directly south. If not she would correct her direction. She did not think she could go too far wrong. Then she began to smile with delight over her success, and took a deep breath of the fresh morning air. It smelled sweet, but then freedom was always sweet!

In Dunmor’s west tower Flora awakened with the sunrise, as was her custom. For a moment she lay upon her trundle bed as her consciousness restored itself. Then rising up, she drew on her garments, turning for a moment to look at her charge, but the little lassie was still sleeping, snuggled deeply beneath her coverlet. Flora nodded. The girl had looked exhausted last night. She would get a bucket of water to warm before she awoke her new mistress, that the girl might wash before her wedding.

Hurrying off, she returned a few minutes later, but her charge had not moved. Flora poured the bucket into the open iron kettle hanging over the hearth and encouraged the embers into a strong flame. Smiling, she walked over to the bed to shake the lass from her slumber, and quickly discovered Arabella’s deception. With a shriek, Flora ran from the tower directly to the earl’s apartments, startling the earl’s body servant, Calum, as she came through the door gasping.

“The lassie is gone! She’s gone, I tell ye! Get the earl, ye fool! Get the earl!”

Hearing the uproar in his dayroom, Tavis Stewart came from his bedchamber. He was as naked as the day he had been born, but Flora never noticed, so deep was her distress. “The little lassie, my lord! She’s gone!” Flora cried.

“Gone? Precisely what do ye mean by gone, Flora? Did I nae instruct ye to stay wi’ her at all times?” the earl demanded.

“I was wi’ her, my lord! I put her to bed last night after ye had spoken wi’ her, but when I awoke at dawn, she was gone!”

“Ye may be upsetting yerself for naught, good dame,” the earl said in a kinder tone. “It is our wedding day, and she may have been unable to sleep. Go to Mistress Hamilton and see if Arabella Grey is wi’ her. If she is nae there, then ask in the hall if any have seen her this morn.”

Flora scurried off, to return several breathless minutes later. “Mistress Hamilton says she has nae seen Lady Arabella since last night, and no one else has seen her either, my lord,” the serving woman reported. “Mistress Hamilton, however, says that the lassie showed an interest in the postern gate while they were walking about the courtyard yesterday.”

“The postern gate?” the earl inquired.

“The servants use it to slip in and out unnoticed when they want to meet wi’ a lover,” Calum said dryly with a knowing grin.

“Jesu!”
The oath exploded from the earl’s mouth, and then he turned to the cringing Flora. “Run to the stables, woman, and have them saddle the gray stallion! I’ll be in the courtyard in five minutes! Calum, help me dress, damnit!”

Flora flew from the earl’s apartments as if she were being pursued by a pack of wolves. Once in the stables, she urged the groom to speed. By the time the earl came down the main staircase of his dwelling, Flora was waiting, holding his horse herself. “Watch says a servant girl left by the postern gate no more than a half an hour ago, my lord. No one else has left this morning.”

“
Which direction was she headed in?” he demanded, already knowing the answer.

“South, my lord,” Flora answered with predictability.

The earl vaulted into his saddle and turned the horse about, pushing him into an instant canter as he headed out across his drawbridge. “Tell Father Colin to be ready to perform the marriage the moment we return,” he called back to the woman.

“Dinna be harsh wi’ her, my lord,” Flora cried after him. “She’s but a little lass.”

The earl grimaced at her words and muttered beneath his breath. “She may be wee, but she’s given me more trouble than any six females, I’ll vow. She’ll nae be an easy wife, I’m thinking.” His horse’s hooves now hit the hard dirt road, turning south as his master urged him onward. The earl’s plaid began to blow in the morning breeze.

It was Arabella’s bad fortune that she was crossing a relatively flat stretch of ground when the earl finally caught her in his sight some long minutes later. Although she had heard him coming, there was simply nowhere for her to hide, and she sincerely wished she might be a bird so that she could fly away. For a brief moment she considered that it might not be him. Hesitantly she turned about to look at the horseman who was fast closing the distance between them. She had known him but three days, but she recognized him immediately, even imagining the grim expression upon the face that she could not yet see plainly. Heart pounding, Arabella began to run, but her legs suddenly felt leaden in her fear. He would surely kill her!