A Rough Wooing

by Virginia Henley

  The Scot nodded and crossed the yard to one of the stables. The minute he left, Greystoke’s men drew and cocked their pistols and rested them on their saddle mounts.

  Sim Armstrong emerged from the barn and Greystoke urged his horse forward.

  “You are in possession of horses stolen from England that bear my Beaumont brand. In the name of the king, I order you to submit to arrest.”

  Armstrong reached for his pistol, but before he could take it from its holster, he glanced up to see six pistols already cocked and aimed at his head. “I’m no’ a thief! I bought the horses fair an’ square, and paid a high price too.”

  “Who sold them to you?” Greystoke demanded.

  Armstrong hesitated.

  Greystoke reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a noose. “The marauding of English livestock is punishable by death.”

  “It were the Elliots. The marauders were the Elliots and the Grahams.”

  Greystoke dismounted. He approached Armstrong and slipped the noose over his head. “Order your men to fetch my horses. All of them. We’ll take you with us on a short tether as a pledge of good conduct for all at Castle Holm.”

  “Where are ye taking me?” Armstrong was quaking in his boots.

  “Carlisle Castle. You’ll provide the names of these thieving Elliots and Grahams, and I’ll issue writs of arrest. If you are found innocent of theft, I’ll release you.”

  When they crossed the English Border, Greystoke directed half his men to take his horses back to Beaumont Hall, while the rest accompanied him and Sim Armstrong to Carlisle Castle.

  The Great Hall of the Carlisle fortalice was crowded with English moss-troopers. Some had brought in Scots arrested for reiving, while others were on their way out to patrol Cumberland and Westmoreland.

  Greystoke sat down at a table and took up pen and paper to write out arrest warrants.

  “Give me the name of the man who sold you my thoroughbreds, and all the other Elliots and Grahams you believe went on this raid.”

  “It was Gavin Elliot and his brothers.”

  “Give me their names.”

  “Let’s see—there’s Jock, Gavin, Douglas, and Rob Elliot. There’s some Grahams too reside at Castle Elliot. There’s more Grahams and Elliots live in Eskdale than ticks on a sheep. I can’t name them all.”

  “These will suffice.” Greystoke wrote the names on the arrest warrants. Then he removed the noose from Armstrong’s neck and escorted him to one of the innumerable cells in the bowels of Carlisle Castle.

  When he returned to the hall, Cumberland hailed him. “We’ve a dozen Maxwells to interrogate about a raid on Penrith. I think we’ve got the ring leaders. Will you sit in judgment with me, Lance?”

  “I was on my way to Castle Elliot to arrest four brothers who raided Beaumont and stole my horses, but I warrant tomorrow will suffice.”

  “The wily bastards will have flown the coop by then. Send your troopers and I’ll have some of my men join them.”

  Greystoke nodded, and handed the warrants to one of his trusted moss-troopers.

  ~~~

  “Where the devil do you think yer going in leather breeches?” Gavin Elliot demanded.

  Douglas shrugged a shoulder. “They’re much easier to ride in than skirts.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question. Yer very secretive these days.”

  “Rubbish!” She smoothed the plaits she had pinned into a coronet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m talking about the letter you got from Mother. If yer going to join her at Court, you won’t be able to cavort about in breeches.”

  “Damn you to hellfire, Gavin Elliot! How dare you read my letter?”

  “We’ll have no secrets from each other.”

  “In that case, you can tell me how much you got for the thoroughbreds.”

  “What thoroughbreds?”

  Douglas laughed. “Now who’s being secretive? If I do decide to go to Court, I’ll need some of that money you got for an elegant new wardrobe.”

  Gavin winked. “Come to think of it, you should wear breeches more often. They cost less than fancy frocks, and they’re ideal if you plan on helping with the lambing.”

  Douglas pulled on a warm doublet. “I’m just going to have a look at the new lambs now. Then I’ll ride along the river before the afternoon sun is gone. The banks of the Esk are thick with blue forget-me-nots.”

  Rob Elliot came clattering down the stone steps that led from the castle ramparts.

  “Riders! Two dozen!”

  Before his warning was out, they heard the thunder of hooves in the castle bailey.

  “Christ, you should have spotted them half-an-hour back.” Gavin strode to the window. “English! I recognize Cumberland’s livery.”

  “God Almighty, what’ll we do?” Rob cried.

  “Keep yer gob shut,” Gavin ordered.

  A servant came into the castle hall with two dozen troopers behind him. Without hesitation Gavin spoke to the trooper who looked to be in charge. “Afternoon, gentlemen. You have business at Castle Elliot?”

  “We have arrest warrants for the Elliot brothers.” Greystoke’s lieutenant brandished a fistful of papers.

  “On what charges?” Gavin demanded.

  “Raiding English horses and selling them in Langholm.”

  Gavin squared his jaw. “Where’s yer proof?”

  “Sim Armstrong sold you out. We have him under arrest in Carlisle Castle. I have warrants here for four Elliot brothers.”

  “You are mistaken. Armstrong is lying. There are only three Elliot brothers.”

  “All Scots lie, so save your breath. I have warrants for Gavin, Jock, Rob, and Douglas.”

  “I am Douglas Elliot.” She stepped forward and raised her chin.

  The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed. “Lying won’t save your brother Douglas.”

  “We have no brother by that name,” Gavin declared. “Douglas is our sister. Are ye accusing her of raiding English horses? On the word of a firking Armstrong?”

  “I have a warrant for Douglas Elliot. It matters not if he’s male or female. Arrest the girl,” he ordered his men.

  Douglas brandished her riding crop and they hesitated. “Strange as well that you have an arrest warrant for Jock Elliot. My brother Jock happens to be with King James. He’ll have your head for this!”

  The lieutenant snorted. “I was born at night, but not last bloody night.” He turned to the servant. “Where is Jock Elliot?”

  “Laird Jock is in Edinburgh.”

  “With the king, no doubt,” the lieutenant sneered. “Which of you is Gavin Elliot?”

  “I am.”

  “And I’m Rob Elliot,” the youngest said with bravado.

  “Arrest all three.” Greystoke’s lieutenant watched stony-eyed as the troopers bound their prisoners wrists with leather thongs. Then he directed some of Cumberland’s troopers to make a cursory search of the castle to see if they could turn up Jock Elliot.

  After half-an-hour he called off the search, and they took their prisoners down to the bailey. “The light is fading fast. It’ll be dark before we get back.”

  “Let my sister go. She has nothing to do with this.” Gavin tried to shame him. “It’s cowardly to arrest a woman.”

  The lieutenant struck Gavin across the face, and Douglas spat, “It’s also cowardly to strike a bound man. But I don’t expect much from an Englishman, and I’m sure I won’t be disappointed.”

  The lieutenant ignored the insult. He told two of his men to take up the Elliot brothers to ride pillion. “I’ll take the girl.”

  Douglas glared daggers at him. “I’d rather ride my own mount.”

  “Not likely. You’d be off like the wind, given half a chance.” He mounted his horse and took her up behind him.

  Douglas wished she still had the knife in her boot. I swear I’d use the bloody thing!

  She knew she had never been as angry in her life. But anger was a good
thing; it kept her fear at bay as the troopers rode relentlessly toward Carlisle Castle. By the time they crossed the Border into England, it was dark, and a bone-chilling terror crept over her. But Douglas swore she would rather die than let these men know she was afraid.

  When the lieutenant drew rein outside the vast castle stables, Douglas jumped to the flagstones before he could dismount. There was no way she would allow him the satisfaction of lifting her down.

  The troopers surrounded their three prisoners and escorted them into the castle. The Great Hall, ablaze with torches, was crowded with men. At the far end, trestle tables were filled with liveried moss-troopers eating the evening meal.

  Though Douglas hadn’t eaten, the smell of food, mingled with tallow, smoke, and male sweat killed her appetite and made her pinch her nostrils. Dressed as she was in leather doublet and breeches, she was relieved that few men in the hall realized she was a female.

  “Wait here,” the lieutenant told his companions.

  Douglas watched him as he made his way down the hall to report to his commander. She had assumed he was one of Cumberland’s men, but now as she stared at the tall male he approached, she realized how wrong she had been.

  Sir Lancelot Greystoke turned his head and gazed across the hall. Their eyes met and held in a long moment of shocked recognition. Then they both quickly looked away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Why did you arrest a woman?” Greystoke demanded.

  “She insists that she is Douglas Elliot, my lord. We arrested Gavin and Rob Elliot, but Jock was nowhere to be found.” He handed the warrants to Greystoke.

  “Lock the men up with Sim Armstrong. The girl presents a bit of a problem.” Greystoke rapidly searched his mind. “Lock her in one of the storerooms next to the kitchens, and bring me the key.”

  He decided not to interrogate the Elliot brothers for the time being. A few days of being totally ignored often proved fruitful. He collected the storeroom key from his lieutenant and told the men to eat while the Carlisle servants were still serving dinner.

  Greystoke had been stunned when he saw the beautiful red-haired female across the Great Hall. Then he felt shock to realize she had been taken prisoner. She had insinuated herself into his thoughts more often than he cared to admit.

  Douglas Elliot! The name suits the proud firebrand. Not for a minute did he think she had taken part in the raid, but she was certainly guilty of telling her brothers about his prize thoroughbreds. My instinct told me she was a Scot, and yet I never once connected her with the theft of my horses.

  ~~~

  Douglas heard the key turn in the lock on the heavy door. I should have known the moss-troopers had been sent by Greystoke when the charge was stealing English horses. How strange that I never made the connection. She examined her surroundings and saw by the rush light in the wall bracket that she was in a storeroom. She was greatly relieved that she hadn’t been imprisoned with rough men, but her fear had not vanished. As well as apprehension for herself, she was racked with worry about the fate of her brothers. Her stomach seemed to be in knots and she feared she might vomit. She found a small wooden bucket, just in case, and realized she might need it for other bodily functions.

  The small rush light flickered and she knew she had better search for things she might need while there was still a glimmer of illumination. It would help keep her panic at bay. She found a cask of cider, cupped her hand and turned the spigot. Then she lapped up the liquid to quench her thirst.

  Guided by her nose, she found a basket of turnips, and a container of dried damsons. She put a handful of the dried fruit in her pocket, then looked about for a place to sit. Trepidation was turning her knees to wet linen. She ran her hands over some large burlap sacks that stood against the wall, and found one that she thought held barley. She sank to the floor and leaned gratefully against the cushiony sack. Within minutes the rush light flickered out, and left her in complete darkness.

  I’m not afraid of the dark, she told herself fiercely. Then she mocked: There’s no need for bravado, there’s no one here to deceive other than myself.

  ~~~

  Douglas Elliot’s eyes flew open, but she saw nothing in the pitch black darkness. She had thought herself too tense to sleep, and yet she realized a noise had awakened her. Then she heard the door creak open and her heart began to pound. She shrank back against the wall and tried to stop herself from trembling. Who is it? What do they want with me?

  “Come.” The voice was low and compelling.

  Douglas knew who it was immediately. She sat absolutely still for the count of ten heartbeats, then she got to her feet and walked slowly toward the voice. She raised her hands before her until they were touching a leather-clad chest. “What—?”

  “Hush!” Greystoke took her hand and led her from the storeroom into a dimly lit passage.

  Douglas had no idea where he was taking her, but they seemed to be going away from the kitchens, deeper into the bowels of the ancient castle. He moved silently, like a wary predator in the forest, and she followed him quietly, hardly daring to breathe. She noticed a faint glimmer of light and as they moved toward it she saw it was coming from a wall bracket beside a heavily studded door.

  She heard Greystoke speak low to the guard who unlocked the door with a huge iron key, and suddenly they were outside the castle. Douglas glanced up, saw the stars, and reassured herself that she wasn’t dreaming. In unison they made their way across the flagstone yard toward the vast stables.

  “Wait here.” Greystoke’s tone expected her to obey him. He dropped her hand and strode into the stables.

  Douglas wanted to run. Here was a chance to escape, and yet she hesitated. She was conflicted. Part of her wanted to put her trust in the English noble, in spite of an inner voice that reminded her that she had been arrested on Greystoke’s orders. How can I flee without a horse? Finally, she decided to have faith in her instincts.

  She could hear the thudding of her heart in her ears, as the dark rider approached and reached down his arm. She put her hand in his and he hoisted her up before him.

  “Your hands are freezing.” He turned her toward him. “Put them inside my doublet.”

  Douglas did as he bade her, and was amazed at his body heat.

  It did not take long for Greystoke’s powerful horse to cover the four miles to Beaumont Hall. With the enchanting female between his thighs, the ride wasn’t nearly long enough, if he were being truthful. He rode into the stable, dismounted and lifted his captive down. Usually he tended his own mount, but when a stableman roused and came forward, he handed him the reins. He knew his companion was shivering and he wanted to get her inside, where the heat from the fires would warm her. When he saw the stableman’s questioning gaze slide over the redhead, he was annoyed. Keep your eyes to yourself, man.

  He opened the door and motioned for her to go before him. She glanced up at the tall case clock in the entrance hall and saw that it was only a few minutes past midnight. Time felt like it had stood still while she was imprisoned in the storeroom. He led her to the large stone hearth, and though the fire had burned low, it still gave off some welcome heat.

  As Douglas held her hands out to the warmth, she watched Greystoke throw off his leather jack, then reach out to take hers. When he removed it, she began to shiver.

  “I know what you need.” Greystoke moved across the room, poured something into a glass and brought it to her. “Brandy. Drink up.” His dark eyes watched her closely as she sipped the fiery liquor.

  Her thoughts darted like quicksilver. I’m still his prisoner. Can I persuade him to release me? Douglas counted the things she could use as a bribe. The list was a short one. She had her body and she had her wits. One thing she knew instinctively: if a female took the defensive role, a male would keep her there. She summoned her bravado, and decided to act as if they were equals. The brandy was strong and she cautioned herself to sip it slowly so she wouldn’t choke and cough.

  Greystoke gave
her an approving look, and she suddenly felt empowered, though perhaps it was the liquor that was making her feel brave.

  “Is there anything else you’d like, Firebrand?”

  He speaks like a bloody god, bestowing his gifts from Olympus! Now’s your chance, Douglas. You don’t ask, you don’t get. I’d like to return home. I’d like the release of my brothers. Instead, she threw him a challenging smile. “Some food, and hot water to bathe.”

  Greystoke’s eyes widened slightly. He took the empty glass from her fingers and set it aside. Then he moved behind her, and cupped her shoulders in his strong hands. “Yes, you’re still cold, and both those things would thaw you. Curl up before the fire, while I see what I can find in the kitchen.”

  When he withdrew, she took a deep breath, and congratulated herself. Though he was an English nobleman, he had rescued her from prison, and was now waiting upon her. She knew that she was vain, but she had more than a suspicion that he was attracted to her. Her innate honesty compelled her to admit that she also was attracted to Lance Greystoke.

  He brought her a steaming bowl of lamb and barley broth. When she took it from him, it warmed her hands, and she breathed in its tantalizing aroma. Between spoonfuls she said, “I thought only Scots enjoyed this kind of soup, but now I see it must be a Border favorite. We may have more in common than we realize.”

  “Such as a mutual desire for horses?” he suggested lightly.

  Douglas reminded herself that the English Border Warden was dangerous. She must avoid the topic of horses, lest she say something that would further incriminate her brothers.

  “I was thinking of home-brewed ale, salmon fishing, and books.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I envy you your library, Greystoke.”

  His dark eyes focused on her mouth. “You are an anomaly, a beautiful female with a penchant for reading.”

  She set her spoon down in the empty bowl. “And you, Sir Lancelot, are an enigma.”

  “I know.”

  He gestured toward the staircase. “I had a servant heat you some water, if you would care to follow me.”

  She rose to her feet slowly. Why is he giving me all I ask? When will he start taking? Her inner voice warned: He is a man. There will be a price to pay. Douglas tried to silence the voice. When I call the tune, I’m perfectly willing to pay the piper. It could be most rewarding. “Lead on, my lord.”