She looked back down the shore and smiled wistfully as memories of their first meeting came back to her. She had ridden down this beach at full gallop toward him, and he had planted his feet firmly, refusing to budge, and had laughed at her folly. She realized that was the moment she had lost her heart to him, but had obstinately refused to acknowledge the truth of it.
Raven looked down at the god stone and realized she was wearing the same shirt that Heath Kennedy had so audaciously plucked from her during that first encounter. She threw back her head and laughed with delight. Upon a few moments' acquaintance, he had actually undressed her; she should have known then that she had met her match.
Raven relived the race they'd had along this same shore, and wished with all her heart that they could do it again. If only he would appear at the far end of the beach and come riding toward her, but Raven knew it was only wishful thinking. Heath would not come back for her. She had raked his pride so deeply that he regretted laying his heart at her feet. She knew he would never give her the chance to trample upon him again.
Though a measure of calm had settled over her, the ache in her heart was unbearable. She knew that she must keep busy and occupy her mind and her hands with something that she could focus her attention upon. It was both ridiculous and fruitless to mope about feeling sorry for herself.
She went back to the stables, fed and watered Sully, then gave her black pony a good currying with his brush until his coat shone. Then she went up into the mews, pulled on her leather gloves, and lifted the two young merlins from their perches. She took a lure with her and walked out into Rockcliffe Marsh to continue their training. She spoke softly to the birds, praising their beauty and giving them her full attention.
Raven cast them again and again, exercising the greatest of patience the entire afternoon as she gave the small falcons a lesson in hunting. More often than not, they missed their prey, but the young falconer had done a good job in training them to return to the lure. Finally, when the afternoon shadows lengthened, one merlin caught a small rodent, and the other returned with a dead mackerel it had picked up on the beach.
Instantly, Raven was reminded of Valentina's words that likened a dead mackerel to the royal court. She thought of Margaret Tudor and the whispered plans of Rosalind Dacre to entertain her. Suddenly, Raven went icy cold. Why was Margaret's visit to England shrouded in secrecy? Raven could think of only one reason. Was it possible that she was taking her son, King Jamie, out of Scotland and delivering him to her brother, King Henry Tudor? The more she thought about it, the more convinced Raven became that there was an evil plot afoot. The Dacres were involved, and to Raven that spoke volumes.
Her very first instinct was to tell Heath of her suspicions. If the little Scottish king was in danger, Heath and Ramsay Douglas would know what must be done to protect him. Raven took a deep breath and examined her motives. Was she using this as an excuse to go running after Heath Kennedy? She acknowledged that he was right, she had made the mistake of a lifetime by not going with him, but it was a mistake she would try to rectify. If aught befell young Jamie Stewart because she was too proud to run after Heath Kennedy, that would be a mistake she could never rectify. When Raven returned the merlins to the mews, her mind was made up: she was going to Eskdale!
This time she did put a saddle on Sully, and as she left the stables she looked toward the manor and scanned its windows. She did not dare go back into the house for food or clothes in case her parents prevented her from leaving. If anyone had seen her from the windows flying her hawks, they would not expect her back until almost dusk. She headed for the edge of the marsh, to give her cover, then turned Sully north, keeping the sinking sun on her
left.
Raven had no idea how many miles it was to Eskdale. Then she reminded herself that there was no guarantee that Heath was there. Her fingers closed over his god stone, and she put her trust in its power to take her to its owner. She suspended all disbelief and told herself there was an invisible, mystical thread that bound them. She had found him whenever he had called to her, and now she put her faith in the belief that it would work if she called to him.
Raven did not gallop at breakneck speed; it was a long journey and she did not want to tax Sully's strength. She stroked his neck, holding him at an easy pace, and every once in a while she bent to whisper in his ear, “Find Heath, Sully, find Heath.”
The sun set, which was followed by dusk, then a lingering twilight. She deliberately skirted Longtown, recalling stories of raids. The inhabitants would not look kindly upon a night rider. When dark descended all about her, Raven was not afraid. She loved the outdoors and nature, and night had its own breathtaking beauty, from its nocturnal noises to its inky shadows.
When she heard a river, she carefully guided Sully to its banks. She knew that the river that ran along the Border was the Esk, and logic told her that if she followed the Esk long enough, it would take her into Eskdale. Deciding this was a good place to stop and rest, she dismounted, removed Sully's saddle, and led him down to the river to drink. She bathed her face with the cool water, then cupped her hands and quenched her own thirst. She tethered her pony so that he could crop the long grass beneath the trees, and sat down with her back against the saddle.
Raven did not close her eyes, but she rested her body. She felt hungry but tried to stop thinking of food, because each time she did, her belly began to rumble. An hour or so after dark, the new moon appeared and began its climb up the sky. Raven gazed at the beautiful crescent shape and repeated the incantation her grandmother had taught her.
When I see the new moon,
It becomes me to lift mine eye,
It becomes me to bend my knee,
It becomes me to bow my head,
Giving thee praise, thou moon of guidance.
Give me the means to find my love,
I have the power, and know how to use it.
She believed that the moon goddess ruled the subconscious instincts and intuition. Raven lifted her face and opened her mind, like a night-blooming convolvulus. Tonight her spirit felt psychic, in tune with the forces of nature and the power of the human mind. She resaddled Sully and allowed the faint silver light of the moon to guide her.
When the sun rose, she stopped again and found a wild thicket of blackberries to assuage her hunger. She knew that she was in Scotland, and she imagined that she could feel herself drawing closer to Heath's presence. The dales were dotted with sheep, and after a short respite, she climbed back into the saddle and urged Sully forward. As often happened in the hills, sudden rain clouds gathered, and a summer downpour began. The sheep huddled together beside the stone walls of Langholm as Raven became soaked through to the skin. Though her pace was much slower, she kept going from Ewesdale into Eskdale, not daring to become discouraged or she would be defeated.
Finally, when she came to a place where she recognized her surroundings, and rode down the dale toward Eskdale Castle, the clouds dispersed, the sun came out, and Raven began to smile.
Heath Kennedy had a wretched night. Sleep had eluded him completely and his body ached with desire for the woman he had left behind in England. Yet it was not simply a physical restlessness that consumed him, but one of the mind and the spirit. His longing for Raven knew no bounds; she consumed every waking thought. The galling part was that he knew she was so physically attracted to him that she shared her body freely and without reserve, yet she would never marry him. It had been so ingrained in her that she must marry for wealth and a title, that she could not bring herself to go against her parents' wishes.
Three times during the long night he had been on the verge of invoking his power and bringing her to his bed. He held the black raven's feather in his hand; all he had to do was focus his mind and his spirit completely upon the object of his desire and intone the words Come to me, Raven. Yet each time some inner instinct had stopped him. At his core, Heath realized that it would gain him naught if he brought her at his bidding. For it t
o have any meaning, Raven must come of her own free will, or it would be better for her not to come at all.
In the morning when Heath arose, he had come to a firm decision. He would take his breeding mares to his own hundred acres that lay in Kirkcudbright on the far side of the River Dee. It was not only close to Castle Douglas, but close to Kennedy landholdings as well. He knew his father's health was deteriorating, and knew he would feel better if he kept an eye on him.
In preparation for their trek across country, he would have to reshoe most of his mares. He went out to the meadow and brought two of his horses to the bailey. Then he went into the forge and lit the fire. When a sudden cloudburst brought a torrent of rain, he brought the horses into the shelter of the forge and took the Douglases' blacksmith up on his offer of help. The two men sized the mares' hooves, then sorted through piles of iron horseshoes to each find four that matched in shape and weight.
The forge became hot and Heath stripped off his doublet as he cleaned his mare's hooves, then heated a metal shoe in the fire. After he had hammered the first pair of horseshoes in place, his shirt followed his doublet, before he continued with the sweltering job. Heath grinned at the blacksmith as he kept pace with him; physical activity always made him feel better. His teeth were a startling white against his sweat-streaked, blackened face.
By the time the two mares were fully shod, the downpour had stopped and the sun came out. Heath led the two horses into the bailey, intending to check their gait as they clopped across the cobbles. He looked up in surprise as a woman rode into the bailey. “Raven!” Heath's heart soared with happiness.
“Heath! Thank heaven I found you.”
He ran to her side, lifted her down from Sully, then hoisted her into the air and swung her around. “Raven, I can't believe you came!” His heart was bursting with pure joy.
“I came because I fear there is a plot to kidnap the young king! I knew I must get word to you and Ramsay Douglas of my suspicions.”
Most of the joy drained from Heath's heart, and an iron carapace closed about it to guard it from her. She had not come because she loved him and could not live without him, she had come to deliver bad news. He masked his disappointment and set her feet to the cobblestones. “You are soaked to the skin. Come, you must get dry.” He turned to the blacksmith and asked him to tend the pony.
“Sully and I are not only wet through, we're starving too.” Raven knew that now she had found him, all her worries would be over. Heath would know if her suspicions about little Jamie Stewart were correct, and he would set everything right. She led the way into Eskdale Castle and began to climb the stairs to Heath's tower rooms as if she had never left.
“Did you ride all this way by yourself, Raven?”
“Yes, but of course I couldn't have done it without you. I shall tell you all about it.”
Heath took a poker to the fire, making the flames blaze high, and when he turned back to her, saw that she was already stripping off her wet garments. He went to the wardrobe, brought her his bed robe, and held it while she slipped her arms into the sleeves to cover her nakedness. He was amazed to see her plop her bottom onto his bed and lift her leg so that he could remove her riding boot. He watched, fascinated, as the corners of her mouth went up. “You are a devil, Heath Kennedy. I'm here only five minutes and already you have me naked.”
Heath, wary as a wolf who had once fallen into a trap, suspected that Raven was quite ready to resume their physical relationship, without the full commitment of marriage. Though she was easily the most alluring female he had ever known, he would be damned if he would settle for anything less than her heart and soul. He set the fireguard before the crackling flames and hung her garments to dry. He asked one of the maids to bring Raven food from the kitchen, then he handed her a towel to dry her hair and stepped a safe distance away from her.
Raven was mildly surprised. Usually, Heath couldn't resist drying her himself, especially her hair. He had always used any excuse to entangle his fingers in her black curls.
Heath dragged his gaze from her wet tresses with difficulty. He poured water from the jug and washed the grime from his face and hands. Then because being naked from the waist up made him vulnerable to Raven's charms, he put on a clean shirt. “Mr. Burque has gone with Tina to Castle Douglas, so don't expect anything spectacular,” he warned lightly.
“Is Lord Douglas not here either?” Raven looked alarmed.
It was the second time she had mentioned Ram Douglas. “Can you not tell me about this plot?”
“Of course. Why on earth do you think I rode through the night to get to Eskdale?”
I hoped there was no plot. I hoped it was a ruse, an excuse to come riding after me to tell me you had made the mistake of a lifetime to let me leave without you.
The maid brought thick mutton broth and freshly baked bread, and Raven began her story as she ate. “I suppose I had better start at the beginning. You were right about my parents. When they arrived home, they were incensed over what I had done. I told them that I could never wed Chris Dacre because I neither loved him nor liked him. I told them about you, I catalogued all your virtues”—she cast him a teasing smile—”but they wouldn't listen.”
“It must run in the family,” Heath murmured.
Raven ignored his taunt. “I was angry and went for a gallop along the shore, and gradually things that had been said in Carlisle came back to me. I am sorry that I didn't pay more attention at the time, but I honestly didn't have much interest in the Dacres' plans. It began as hints at first, and came to me in bits and pieces from both Christopher and Lady Rosalind. Yesterday, when I put it all together, it suddenly became obvious to me. Tell me if you agree.” Raven relayed the information, point by point. “After the wedding, Christopher was taking me to Bewcastle, where we would receive some important guests. Lady Rosalind was all atwitter because she would shortly be entertaining these same important nobles at Carlisle. Soon after the wedding, we were to travel to the English court in London, but the whole thing was shrouded in secrecy. Then yesterday my mother let it slip that it was Queen Margaret who was going to Carlisle and that the Dacres would be accompanying the royal court to London.”
“Archibald Douglas and Margaret are taking her son, King Jamie, out of Scotland and turning him over to her brother, Henry Tudor! Your suspicions are correct, Raven. Ramsay Douglas and I knew that Archibald would need money and might plot with Henry Tudor to sell him King Jamie, but we had no idea their plans were imminent!”
“Can you get the information to Lord Douglas?”
“I have no idea where he is. I'll have to act without him. Fortunately, Ram left about twenty moss-troopers here with Gavin.” He looked at her with admiration. “It was most courageous of you to ride through the night alone, Raven.”
“I wasn't alone, Heath. Your spirit was with me every step of the way, and I had your god stone.” She caressed the phallic symbol that rested between her breasts, then lifted it off over her head and brought it to him.
With difficulty, Heath gathered his thoughts. He took her hand in his and looked at what lay in her palm. “I'm going to need more than the help of a stone to discern the answers I need; there are so many unknowns. Little King Jamie resides in Edinburgh. When did they leave the capital? At which castles will they break their journey? Perhaps only at Douglas strongholds where Archie feels safe. At all costs we must stop them from crossing the Border into England. While common sense dictates it will be slow traveling with a child not yet three, my instincts tell me they will travel as fast as they can while the moon is in its dark phase. I fear we have little time to waste.”
She watched with avid eyes as he went to the wardrobe for a doublet. “I will go and alert the men to be ready to ride on a moment's notice.”
Heath went down to the hall and spoke with the mosstroopers who were just finishing their midday meal. There was a scuffle and a loud altercation in the entrance, and when he went to investigate, Heath saw that Gavin Douglas h
eld a man by the scruff of his neck.
“This is your bloody prisoner! How the hell did he escape?”
Heath was amazed to see that it was Sim Armstrong. “He served his purpose; I let him go. More to the point, what the hellfire are you doing here, Armstrong?”
“My firkin' brain must be addled, thinkin' ye'd listen!” Armstrong cursed.
“Let him go,” Heath told Gavin. “We'll listen.”
“Could I ha' a wee dish of broth?” Armstrong wheedled.
Heath knew the Borderer must be starving to risk asking for a favor, and signaled to a server. He unsheathed his knife, cut off a chunk of bread, then stuck the weapon in the table close to hand. “Start singing for your supper.”
Armstrong eyed the knife as he reached for the bread. “My information should be worth a few coppers tae ye. There's a plan afoot tae smuggle the rightful King of Scotland across the Border tae England!”
“Your information is worth nothing so far. We know about the plot. What we need to know is when and where.”
“They arrive at Hawick tonight. Then, under cover of dark, Mangey Armstrong will lead them through the Border Forest tae England, where Dacre's men will be waitin' tae take the king an' his mother tae Bewcastle!”
“How do we know it isn't a trap?” Gavin asked Heath.
“We don't,” Heath said flatly. “But the information tallies with what Raven knows, and Hawick makes sense.”
“Why would he betray Mangey Armstrong?” Gavin asked doubtfully.
Heath shrugged. “Revenge is a sweeter dish than mutton broth, especially when it's against a brother who has betrayed you.”
Gavin thought about his own brother and knew he would not want to be on the receiving end of Black Ram's wrath, if he and the Douglas men did not do all in their power to foil this plot.
“We'll have to ride to Hawick now and lay in wait for them.”
Gavin agreed with Heath and ordered the mosstroopers to fully arm themselves and ready their horses.
The Border Hostage Page 31