The Border Hostage

by Virginia Henley

  His mouth set in a hard line. “I'll see Heath. Do ye know where he is?”

  “When I saw him in Carlisle, he wore a Douglas plaid,” Meg said cryptically, then pressed her point, “The curse can be lifted.”

  It can be lifted, all right, Rob thought. I'll see Heath an' order him tae have ye remove the bloody curse, ye evil Gypsy witch!

  After Old Meg departed the castle, Rob Kennedy sat in his chair all night. Dark thoughts and persistent worries chased each other around his brain seeking an escape hatch, but it felt as if he had cut his mooring rope and was adrift. Last night the gates of hell had opened, and he smelled the sulphur as he considered the end.

  The loneliness of the castle surrounded him and pressed in on him. Where had all the happiness gone and the laughter? They had left him one by one. When his beloved Valentina left, most of the light had gone out of his life. She had even taken Ada with her, who had always been such a comfort to him. He remembered the old days when Kennedy hospitality was legendary and the castle had been filled with guests. The bachelor quarters of Doon used to overflow with red-haired young Kennedys from four different branches of the clan. Every spring they brought the wool from the first shearing to be exported via his Kennedy vessels. Half of those promising young men had lost their lives at Flodden.

  Only three had come this year. They had brought the wool and left as if they couldn't get away fast enough. He acknowledged morosely that it was the women who had drawn them, attracted them like lodestones, entertained them and filled the castle with fun and games, love and laughter. Even his bed was empty now that Lizzie had left him. “I'm cursed.” He reached for the whisky.

  * * *

  “Father, where the hell are ye?”

  Rob Kennedy opened his eyes and tried to struggle to his feet, but he was held fast by the wool plaid Bothwick must have wrapped about him once he had drunk himself to sleep. “Duncan, is that ye, man? I've sat here all night worritin' about ye!”

  Duncan found his father in the room where he conducted business, and knew immediately that he had slept there. “The place seems deserted. Where's Mother?”

  “Left me … gone tae Carlisle. Taken Beth an' all the bloody maidservants.” Relief that Duncan was home safe washed over him. “Well, at least everythin's all right wi'ye.”

  “No, it isn't all right. We ran into a terrible storm. I was near washed overboard. We limped home, taking on more water than we could pump. It'll take weeks tae repair the Thistledoon.”

  Rob Kennedy's face turned ashen. The Thistledoon was the pride of the Kennedy fleet, swifter than any other vessel. It was the bloody curse! Hadn't she said the male line of the Kennedys would all die out? Duncan was doomed! Rob surged up out of the chair and crashed his fist upon the table. “It's her that's done it tae me! Well, I'm no goin' tae sit here an' fall tae bits. We'll sail tae Carlisle an' put a stop tae it!”

  Duncan mistakenly assumed his father was talking about his mother. “Did they bring the wool from the spring shearing?”

  “Aye, it's all loaded aboard my own ship, the Galloway. We will weigh anchor tomorrow if no storms threaten. If she thinks I've lost my old ruttin' spirit, she's wrong! After I settle my business in Carlisle, we'll go an' make sure Tina is all right. I've had no word about the wee bairn!”

  Duncan eyed the whisky and felt sorry for his mother. Still, she would have a couple of days of reprieve. Before he sailed the Galloway to Carlisle, he would have to arrange for the damaged Thistledoon to get towed up to the shipyards in Glasgow for repair.

  Two maidservants entered Raven's chamber, one bringing hot water and towels, the other carrying a breakfast tray and a message. “Lady Douglas asks you to visit her, so she may thank you.”

  As she dressed, Raven decided that today she would make her plight known to Valentina. She had already earned the new mother's gratitude, and when Tina learned what her brother had done, she would be outraged. It would gain her sympathy and perhaps lead to Raven and Christopher's release as well.

  The Master Tower was a hive of activity. Servants were carrying in two carved cradles, baby blankets, and a mountain of flannel napkins. Embroidered nightgowns and caps were strewn across the big bed where the radiant mother lay feeding her little daughter. A buxom wet nurse had just finished feeding the new Douglas heir and was issuing orders where his cradle must be placed.

  “There you are; perhaps she'll listen to you.” Ada took Raven's hand and propelled her to the side of the bed. “Tina insists on getting up later today. Kindly inform her that English ladies stay abed for two weeks after the birth of a child.”

  “Kindly inform Ada that I am not an English lady … not a lady at all, as well she knows.” Tina gave her a brilliant smile. “I don't even know your name, but I thank you with all my heart for coming to my aid yesterday.”

  “I am Raven Carleton. I believe that my father and your mother Elizabeth are second cousins. I know your sister Beth; we were both recent guests at Carlisle Castle.”

  “Then Heath was telling the truth—he did see Beth at Carlisle. She told him that my heartless mother was trying to betroth her to the son of Dacre, my husband's most hated enemy, but that she much preferred Heron Carleton, who must be your brother!”

  “Yes, Heron is my brother,” Raven acknowledged, remembering that he had escorted Beth Kennedy to the fair. Her heart sank as she learned that Lord Dacre was Douglas's most hated enemy.

  “Raven is such a beautiful name; perhaps I will use it for my daughter.” Tina lovingly touched the dark down on her child's head. “How lovely of Heath to bring you for a visit.”

  Raven took a deep breath and plunged in. “I am delighted that you are recovered enough to want to get up, and I am most sorry to give you news that will upset you, but your brother kidnapped me!”

  “A stolen bride? I warrant that is the most romantic thing I have ever heard! Ada, Heath is finally in love.”

  “No, no, he is not in love.” Raven avoided the name Dacre because of Tina's passionate response. “I was out riding with my betrothed when your brother took him prisoner, and now he is holding him for ransom. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he kidnapped me too!”

  “What an impetuous devil to steal you with only the clothes on your back. Never mind, I have a whole wardrobe of lovely gowns I haven't been able to wear for months. Ada, get Raven whatever she needs. Take anything you want,” Tina said generously.

  “What I want is for you to persuade your brother to free us. Kidnapping is against the law!”

  Tina laughed merrily. “Borderers are a law unto themselves. Heath would never take something he didn't highly covet. This is his way of wooing you. I know better than to interfere between a man and the woman he has chosen.” Tina handed her baby daughter to Ada. “She's fallen asleep; put her in her cradle.” Just then her baby son began to scream. “Give him to me; it takes a special touch to soothe a Douglas male.” She dropped a kiss onto the tiny brow, then smiled at Raven. “Ada will bring you the clothes, and you must visit us again. Come and have dinner with Ada and me tonight and you can tell us all the gossip you heard in Carlisle.”

  When Raven left the Master Tower, she was riven with anxiety about Christopher Dacre. Not only did Heath Kennedy hate the Dacres, but she had just learned they were Lord Ramsay Douglas's most hated enemy. Obviously there was bad blood between them that stretched back before the war when England had defeated Scotland at Flodden. Though Raven felt no danger to herself, the danger for Christopher was very real. She must find a way to help him escape!

  Raven assured herself that if she steadfastly believed that she had the power, she would find the means to free Christopher. The best time, of course, would be under cover of darkness, and he would need a mount. With so many moss-troopers frequenting the stables, it would be almost impossible to take horses from there, so Raven decided to go outside and see if any animals were being grazed close by the castle.

  Hope soared in her breast when she saw a meadow wi
th about twenty horses in it. Almost immediately she saw Heath Kennedy riding among them. Unfortunately, because of her scarlet jacket, he saw her too, and closed the distance between them. “Were you thinking of going somewhere?”

  Raven swallowed the tart reply that rose to her lips in an effort to disarm him. Determined to allay his suspicions, she decided to use her feminine wiles. “I was looking for you. I would like your permission to fly my falcons. They are young and need exercise and training.” She looked up at him beseechingly. “Can you and I not set aside our differences and come to an understanding?”

  Her sweet voice told him she was sheathing her claws because she wanted something. “These horses here also need training,” he said. “We can work together each day. You may fly your falcons in this meadow. The more time we spend together, the closer our understanding will become.” He dismounted. “I'll come with you to the mews.”

  Raven had no choice. She had not been lying when she said her hawks needed to be flown, but she had hoped it would gain her some freedom. Obviously he had no intention of letting her out of his sight, and she was annoyed that once again he had thwarted her.

  As they walked toward the stables, the horse he had been riding followed him and nudged him in the back. Heath turned to rub the animal's nose, and the other horses gathered about them in a circle. “How did you learn to charm horses?” she asked.

  “You don't teach the horse your language, your ways; you learn his. That is the secret.”

  “Why, that is what I do with my hawks. Most people make the mistake of trying to master them, but falcons have no masters. At best they tolerate you. With kindness and respect and a potent lure, you can train them to do your bidding, but they can never really be tamed.”

  In the mews he lifted Sheba from her perch and glanced sideways at Raven. “A potent lure will make the female do my bidding?”

  Raven blushed. His words had an intimate connotation, and in his raw linen shirt with his corded neck still glistening from his exertions, he was a most potent lure. He held her glance until she was forced to lower her lashes. Curse him! How was he able to make her respond to him against her better judgment? She picked up Sultan, hurried through the stables, and swept outside into the meadow. She cast the male peregrine and watched him soar into the sky, wishing she could fly after him.

  “You forgot something.” He handed her a pigeon-feather lure he had picked up in the mews, then he cast Sheba. She caught the breeze beneath her wings and soared after Sultan.

  “You did that very well,” she acknowledged.

  “I watched you closely. You are a good teacher.”

  She was flattered at the compliment. Most disapproved of falcon training by a female. Then she realized what he was doing: he was offering her respect to gain her trust.

  “Come, we'll ride after them. This garron hasn't been trained to the saddle, but you don't need one, you ride like the wind.”

  Raven hid her amusement as she mounted the garron. He was doing it again! If he thought to train her to do his bidding with compliments and kindness, he was doomed to disappointment. She watched him mount another horse that didn't even have a bridle. He threaded his fingers into its mane and together they galloped across the turf. Then the other garrons kicked up their heels playfully and thundered after them.

  Exhilaration bubbled up in Raven as she lifted her face to the sky and watched the pair of gyrfalcons circle together, then drop from the clouds in a double dive. She threw back her head and laughed joyfully, intoxicated by the ride and the wild creatures with whom they shared the glorious afternoon.

  Heath's face was taut with hunger as he watched her. “I like the way you laugh, full out, holding nothing back.” Would she love this way too? He pictured her in his bed, beneath him, laughing up at him, and he knew that with the right mate, she would indeed.

  The falcons returned and presented their prey to Raven as she had trained them to do. She took the snipe from the hooked beaks, praised their efforts, then gave them back the game they had caught. They flew onto the meadow's stone wall to devour their prey. “They hunt for food, so that is how I reward them.”

  “They have trained you well,” he said solemnly.

  “Cheeky swine!” Raven tossed back her hair. “Now it's my turn to assess your training methods.”

  For the next two hours she watched Heath Kennedy work with the garrons. He had infinite patience, walking among them, following them, talking softly to them, then he turned his back, put distance between them, and waited. It took a long time, but finally, one by one, half a dozen horses followed him. These were the animals he focused upon, touching them, mounting them, and finally getting each one to accept a saddle on its back.

  As the falcons preened themselves atop the stone wall warmed by the sun, Raven watched the dark Borderer work the garrons. Though he made it appear effortless, she could see the lithe muscles of his thighs ripple beneath the calfskin breeches. The powerful bulge of his forearms as he lifted the saddle brought back the memory of being in his arms, and the thought of his darkly furred chest beneath the shirt made her aware of her own body. She looked away, fighting the attraction. She had been warned against Borderers all her life, but as her eyes slid back to watch him, she realized just how much temptation lay in the forbidden.

  He worked until the light began to fade from the sky, then he slapped the horses' rumps and sent them back to the herd. His hand went to his shoulder to massage an ache, and when he took it away, Raven saw blood on his shirt. “You have injured yourself.”

  Heath glanced at his shoulder. “It's a shallow wound I keep reopening … nothing to worry about.”

  She saw a chance to gain his trust. “After we take the falcons back to the mews, you must come to the stillroom with me for some yarrow. That will stop the bleeding.”

  “Yes, yarrow is good for that. Who taught you herbal medicine?”

  “My grandmother, Doris Heron.” She glanced up at him from beneath her lashes to gauge his reaction. “She is a Solitary who practices the Craft.”

  “Then I presume the two of you have dabbled in Celtic rituals?”

  “You may presume whatever you like, Heath Kennedy, and I shall do the same,” she promised.

  In the stillroom, Raven took out her small dagger, cut yarrow leaves and a few dried blossoms, and placed them in a wooden bowl. Heath took a pestle and ground the leaves into a yellow powder. “Have you drawn your own blood with that knife, so that it will serve you and no other?” he murmured. “Do you believe in the power of magic, Raven?”

  Her glance flew to his and held. “I believe in the power of nature.” She took a small pot of butter, sprinkled in the powdered yarrow, and handed it to him. “Try this.”

  He cocked a dark brow. “No magic incantation I must chant?”

  “Hocus pocus, fish bones choke us.”

  His lips twitched. “I deserved that.”

  You'll get everything you deserve if I have my wish, Heath Kennedy, Raven thought with satisfaction.

  CHAPTER 10

  After Raven left Heath, she entered her chamber and firmly closed the door between the adjoining rooms. The bed was piled high with dresses, cloaks, riding clothes, and undergarments. The female inside her was thrilled, and she was astounded that Valentina Douglas could show such generosity to another woman. As she hung them in the wardrobe, she was surprised at the vibrant colors and rich textures of the gowns. She knew there were far more clothes than she would ever need, for she did not plan to be here much longer. Still, she could not resist removing the clothes she had worn for two days and changing into one of the dresses.

  Someone had brought warm scented water and fresh towels, so Raven quickly undressed and took a sponge bath. She donned a fresh white petticoat and marveled at the delicate flowers embroidered around its hem and low neckline. She chose a jade-green gown because its vivid color cried out to her. She put it on and ran to look in the mirror. Her reflection both pleased and surprised her. The
gown was cut much lower than anything she had ever been allowed to wear before, and the curve of her breasts swelled above the square neckline, making her feel overtly feminine. She brushed her hair until it shone like black silk, then picked up the green cloak that matched the gown. She had decided to accept Tina's invitation to dine and try again to obtain her help.

  When Raven opened her chamber door and walked into the adjoining room, she was astonished to see Heath Kennedy standing naked with only a towel about his hips. He had just bathed and was examining his shoulder in the mirror. His discarded clothes lay upon a wooden settle, and Raven's eye fell upon a key that had fallen from his pocket. It was the same key he had used yesterday to lock Christopher in the tower! Excitement surged through her as she realized that here was the means to free Christopher, if she could summon the courage. All she had to do was use her power to distract his jailer.

  She casually laid her cloak down over the key and walked toward him showing great concern. “God's passion, that is far more than a cut; it's a knife wound! Let me have a look at it.”

  Heath's smoldering glance roamed over her, lingering on her breasts so temptingly displayed. Sexual hunger threatened to engulf him and though he turned his shoulder toward her, his gaze never left her. The moment her scent stole to him, his arousal lifted the towel.

  His marked response to her gave Raven added confidence. She drew as close as she dared to examine the wound. “It won't stop bleeding until it is stitched,” she declared.

  He held up the needle and thread he had been about to use. “For once we agree. You have the gift of healing, I believe.”

  Raven had never stitched a man's wound before. She had watched her grandmother, and she had sewn one of Heron's hunting dogs that had been lacerated by a wild boar. Kennedy, however, willing to put himself at her mercy, handed her the needle. Confidence in her own ability surged into her the moment their fingers touched, and she became sure of her healing power.