Kidnapped by a Rogue, kindle

by Margaret Mallory

  “How could you invite William here?” she asked. “How could you forgive him after what he did to me?”

  “He’s necessary to our plans,” George said in a quiet voice, and shifted his gaze to the side. “But we should have warned you.”

  “Aye, you should have,” she said. “How am I supposed to face him in front of the entire court and all the guests at this feast?”

  As soon as she entered the hall, the room would be abuzz with her humiliation.

  “I’m sure you’ll handle it with grace and calm,” George said. “You always do.”

  With grace and calm? As she always did? Anger roiled under her skin. Her brothers were so certain that she would suffer this slap in the face, this last hurtful betrayal, quietly and without causing them the least inconvenience.

  Tonight, she would teach them a lesson.

  “Let’s go, then,” she said, and took George’s arm.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Lizzie was waiting just inside the stairwell and watching the people in the hall.

  “One of your ribbons has come loose,” Margaret said as she reached for a bow in Lizzie’s hair. “George, you go ahead. I need just a moment to fix this.”

  As soon as he left them, Margaret took both of Lizzie’s hands in hers. She felt uneasy involving her younger cousin, but Lizzie was her only ally at the palace.

  “I need your help,” she whispered.

  “Of course,” Lizzie said. “I’ll do anything.”

  “I’m afraid it might be a bit dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” Lizzie’s eyes lit up. “What is it ye plan to do?”

  ###

  Finn returned to the abbey that evening at the appointed hour. Hidden by darkness, he followed the wall that encircled the grounds until he reached the back gate behind the abbey’s kitchen gardens. He found a monk’s habit hidden behind the bush next to the gate, tossed it over his clothes, and tied the rope belt. Holding his breath, he leaned his shoulder against the gate, then smiled as it creaked open. Until this moment, he had not been sure the monk’s courage would hold and he’d leave the gate unlocked.

  After pulling the hood low over his face, Finn quickly crossed the garden and entered the abbey church through the side door the monk had shown him earlier. Keeping to the shadows beyond the reach of the church’s burning candles, he moved on silent feet along the wall until he reached the opposite side of the church and the decorative arched doorway that was the king’s entrance from the palace.

  He ducked through the arch and ran up the steps that the king would walk down to enter the church. The stairway was black save for a flickering candle at the top, where he found the monk waiting for him in front of a heavy oak door reinforced with iron.

  “Thank you for your help,” Finn said in a hushed voice as he pulled the habit off and gave it to the monk. Beneath it, he wore his best tunic and breeches. When the monk made no move to unlock the door, he said, “Ye do have a key to it?”

  “Nay,” the monk said. “The lock is on the palace side of the door, and it’s only opened when the royals come into the church to pray.”

  Finn waited, hoping the monk did not bring him here for nothing.

  “With the queen’s hurried departure and custody of our young king changing hands, however, all is in confusion,” the monk said. “No one seems to be responsible for locking the door.”

  “Then luck is on my side,” Finn said.

  “I doubt that verra much,” the monk said before he snuffed out his candle and slipped away into the darkness.

  CHAPTER 5

  Finn walked down the long, dimly-lit corridor, pleased to find it empty, and followed the sounds of voices and music that should lead him to the great hall where the feast was being held. As he neared a corner, he suddenly found himself face to face with a pair of burly palace guards who came around it from the other direction.

  “What business do ye have back here?” one of them demanded, moving his hand to the hilt of his sword. “Ye should be in the hall with the rest of the guests.”

  “A lady invited me to slip away to her bedchamber. If ye saw her,” Finn said, spreading his arms out, “you’d know I couldn’t say nay.”

  “I see no lady,” the guard said.

  “She returned to the hall before me.” Finn lowered his voice. “She didn’t wish her husband to see us return together,”

  “Men who look like him have all the luck,” the other guard said with a sour expression.

  Finn tilted his head and grinned. “I won’t be so lucky if her husband catches me.”

  “Ah, go on, ye bastard,” the first guard said with a laugh, and waved him on his way.

  Finn smiled to himself. The hard part was over. He was in.

  His chances of carrying Lady Margaret Douglas out of the palace under the noses of the royal guards and half the Lowland nobility were slim to none. If the opportunity presented itself, he’d take it, but his goal tonight was simply to study his quarry so he would recognize her and know how best to approach her when she was outside the palace.

  Surely the woman had to leave it sometime to visit a shop on King’s Street or to ride in the wood next to Holyrood. If he was lucky enough to get a chance to speak with her tonight, he might even persuade her to meet him for that ride. She would not be the first woman to decide to meet him against her better judgment.

  When he reached the great hall, it was crowded with nobles dressed like peacocks in colorful silks and velvets. They were all milling about, presumably waiting for the king to arrive and take his seat at the high table. Finn moved along the fringes of the crowd, picking up snatches of whispered conversations.

  “I thought we were rid of the damned Douglases for good.”

  “The Douglases are like the weeds in the garden. They always come back.”

  “The queen is furious about losing control of the king.”

  “God help us, what kind of king will the lad make? He’s thirteen, and they say he wept like a babe when he was separated from his mother.”

  “Perhaps he wept about being put under his stepfather’s thumb. I’d weep too.”

  Heads turned toward the doorway nearest the high table, and a murmur traveled through the hall like a wind blowing through a field. The king must have arrived. While Finn was curious to see the lad, finding Lady Margaret in this crowd was a more pressing matter.

  He caught the attention of a young serving woman as she passed by. When he took her arm and drew her aside, she blushed to her roots and batted her eyelashes rather furiously.

  “Do ye know who Lady Margaret Douglas is?” he asked. “Is she here?”

  “Lady Margaret?” The lass’s face fell, and she nodded in the direction of the high table. “That’s who they’re all looking at.”

  When Finn turned and followed her gaze across the room, the woman’s beauty struck him like a punch in the chest, knocking the air out of his lungs in a whoosh. She looked like a faery queen, slender and graceful in a gown that shimmered a silvery blue. Fair hair the color of moonbeams was piled on top of her head and fell in loose tendrils to frame an exquisite face.

  A woman as beautiful as she was must be accustomed to all the attention, but he sensed she was uneasy with it. She glanced around the room with a distant expression. In contrast to her fair hair and skin, her eyes were a deep brown. When she looked his way, he thought her gaze caught on his for just a moment.

  That moment made him think of the time a doe looked up and met his gaze through the leafy wood just as he pointed his arrow at her heart. He had lowered his bow and let the doe go. For some reason he could not fathom, this lass tugged at his heartstrings the same way. He had the urge to leave the palace and let her go too.

  Finn had known his share of beautiful women. More than his share, truth be told. But this Douglas lass had an ethereal quality that was different from the others. Though she was tall, there was a gentleness, a fragility, about her that made her seem vulnerable—and made
a man want to protect her.

  Then Finn remembered that he was the man she needed protection from.

  He shook his head to break the spell she cast over him. He knew what highborn women were like. Ach, no doubt she practiced that doe-eyed expression in her looking glass, knowing what it did to men, just as she calculated how low to make her bodice. The gown revealed enough of her breasts to make a man’s mouth water while leaving enough a mystery to make him hope to be the one she allowed to uncover them.

  Finn told himself that if he did not kidnap her, Moray would find someone else to do it. This was his chance to acquire lands of his own, and he did not expect to have another. If he failed to even attempt to do as he’d agreed, Moray would see that he suffered more than the loss of that opportunity.

  Now that he’d cleared his head of foolishness, Finn took in the talk around him.

  “Thought she’d be past her prime, but she’s even more beautiful than before,” a man behind him said. “Heavens, she must be seven and twenty now.”

  “Wonder who will be the lucky man she’s married off to this time?” his companion said. “One thing is certain—he’ll have more warriors to support her brother’s ambitions than I have.”

  “Sad to think of such a fine lass in some old goat’s bed,” the other said. “But she’s barren, so the husband will be someone who has heirs to spare.”

  “Aye. A man can always have beauty in a mistress,” his companion said, “but for a wife, he needs a good breeder.”

  “Still, who wouldn’t be tempted—”

  “God’s blood, this will be interesting,” the other man interrupted. “That’s Drumlanrig, her former husband.”

  The buzz of gossip spread through the hall like a swarm of bees. Lady Margaret must hear it, but her placid expression did not waver. Not a faery queen, then, but an ice maiden.

  The more Finn examined her, though, the more he wondered if she was as unaffected as she pretended. Her ivory skin seemed a shade paler. In the end, it was the slight tremor of her fingers against the skirt of her gown that gave her away.

  It took inner strength to face this crowd of nobles, who were all hoping for a dramatic scene, and show nothing of her true feelings. While Finn admired her for it, he also tucked away the knowledge that this lass was damned good at deception.

  During the feast, Finn kept watch on the high table from his distant seat with the lowest-ranking guests. Music floated down from the gallery, and even at his lowly table, the wine was good. By the sixth or seventh course, he’d had more than enough to eat, but the food kept coming.

  When the last course was finally removed, a tall, dark-haired man stood up from the high table. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, and he wore a trim, pointed beard, a bejeweled velvet tunic, and a stiff, self-important manner. This had to be Archibald Douglas, the 6th Earl of Angus, himself.

  “The king calls for dancing,” Douglas announced, and clapped his hands. Once the servants folded and moved the lower tables against the walls, he turned to the king and swept his arm out to the side. “Which lady will you honor as your partner, your grace?”

  “Lady Margaret!” the king said, his voice cracking.

  The lady took the awkward youth’s arm with a smile, but the slight creases at the corner of her eyes looked strained. Unfortunately for the king, his choice of a partner who was half a head taller and as graceful as an angel only emphasized his clumsiness. It was painful to watch.

  The moment the king released her at the end of the dance, Lady Margaret disappeared into the crowd. Finn was taller than most, and he soon caught sight of her standing against the wall and began to make his way toward her. He was just a few feet away when the room suddenly went quiet. He turned to see the king standing in the center of the hall with his arms raised.

  “With the help of Lady Margaret, I’ve come up with a grand surprise for you, my honored guests, this evening.” He paused a long moment for effect, then shouted, “Stand back! Make room for the lions!”

  Lions? Finn had heard that the lad’s father, James IV, kept lions at the palace and even had a house built for them in the gardens. Finn edged to the front of the crowd.

  Several women shrieked, and everyone moved back as two lions were brought in on heavy chains with thick leather collars. Finn had never seen anything like them. Drawings did not come close to capturing the magnificence of the beasts. When the male roared, the rumble reverberated through the hall and in Finn’s bones. Even a few men screamed.

  What a marvelous beast!

  Curious to see how the cool Lady Margaret reacted to the lions, he turned to look at her. She had moved from where she had been standing, but so had everyone else when the lions were brought in. Finn scanned the hall, trying to catch sight of her.

  O shluagh, she was gone. How long had he been distracted by the damned lions?

  He ducked out of the door that was closest to where he last saw her. Hoping to catch her before she returned to the hall, he half ran down the corridor, glancing into rooms as he passed them. Though he had not planned to take her hostage tonight, if he found her alone while everyone else was distracted by the lions, he just might be able to sneak her out through the abbey.

  He slowed his pace to a walk as he passed a serving woman so as not to draw attention to himself. He did not want to be remembered.

  ###

  Margaret found Lizzie donned in her breeches and cap and waiting, as planned, with her horse in a dark corner of the courtyard behind the stables.

  “Ye told your father you’re staying at your stepbrother’s house tonight?” Margaret asked. Lizzie’s stepbrother from her mother’s first marriage was a successful Edinburgh merchant. “I don’t want anyone to find out ye had a part in this.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve done this before,” Lizzie said. “My stepbrother and father don’t speak, so neither ever finds out.”

  Margaret mounted the horse behind Lizzie and averted her face as they approached the gate. Unfortunately, the guards were more astute than Lizzie’s father.

  “Lady Elizabeth, where do ye think you’re going at this hour?”

  “This poor servant’s mother is near death and asked to see her,” Lizzie told the guards. “’Tis on the way to my brother’s house, so I’m taking her. We’ve no time to waste if she’s to hold her dear mother’s hand before she expires.”

  Lizzie could spin a tale like no one Margaret knew.

  “With such an important feast tonight,” the guard said, narrowing his eyes at Lizzie, “I would not expect a servant to be allowed to leave before the guests are abed, dying mother or no.”

  “Lady Margaret gave her permission,” Lizzie said. “Ye know how soft-hearted she is.”

  “All right. But ye shouldn’t be allowed to go out and about the way ye do,” the guard grumbled as he waved them through the gate. Then he called after them, “You be careful and go straight to your brother’s!”

  “We’ll be at Blackadder Castle in a couple of hours,” Lizzie said as they started down the cobblestone street.

  “’Tis not safe to ride there in the dark,” Margaret said. “We’ll need to find a tavern where we can take a room for the night.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Lizzie said. “My horse knows the road to Blackadder Castle, and he’s faster than any bandit’s horse.”

  “Lizzie, ye worry me,” Margaret said, which made her cousin laugh.

  “Alison and David will be furious when they hear that your brothers welcomed Wretched William back,” Lizzie said. “David won’t give ye up no matter what Archie threatens.”

  Relations between the two men were already tense. David was still angry with Archie for fleeing the country and leaving Alison vulnerable—even though it was David who had taken advantage of that and laid siege to her castle. When two powerful magnates with hundreds of warriors at their command have a dispute, it could too easily escalate to bloodshed.

  What had she done? Acting rashly was unlike her, but she was so d
esperate to escape she had not thought through the repercussions. The last thing she wanted was to cause trouble between her brothers and David, especially with Alison so close to her time.

  “Let’s leave Alison and David out of this if we can,” she told Lizzie. “Instead of the castle, we’ll go to Thomas’s cottage in the village.”

  Margaret knew she could not escape for long. How could she? Running off like this would buy her a few days’ reprieve, at best. But perhaps her bold act of rebellion would persuade her brothers not to attempt to force her to wed again.

  ###

  Finn could not find Lady Margaret, so he returned to the great hall, where she was bound to return eventually herself. He relieved a passing servant of a silver carafe and a cup. While he waited for his quarry to reappear, he may as well avail himself of some of the palace’s fine wine.

  “Where’s Lady Margaret gone?” The king’s thin, petulant voice a few feet away told Finn he was not alone in his vigil.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Archibald’s subtle nod to a man who bore a strong resemblance to him. This second man put his arm around the king’s shoulders and led him to a group of bonny, but very young lasses. While the man talked and the lasses giggled, the king’s gaze continued to search the hall for Lady Margaret.

  Finn had the nagging feeling he had missed something, some telling detail he had seen but ignored. When Lady Margaret failed to reappear after an hour, he drank down the rest of his wine and left. He paused on the palace steps and drew in a deep breath of the cool night air. That nagging thought was just out of his reach…

  The image of the serving woman he passed in the corridor when he was searching for Lady Margaret came into his head. The woman carried a tray, wore a servant’s gown and an old woman’s kerchief, and walked with her head down. He was so intent on finding a lady in a sparkling gown and headdress that he barely saw her. And yet, somewhere in the back of his mind he had noticed something was not quite right about that serving woman.

  It was the hands that clasped the tray. They were not the red and chafed hands of a servant, but the smooth, elegant hands of a noblewoman. He could kick himself for missing that clue. As he mulled over the memory, he was certain the graceful walk and slender shape beneath the drab servant’s gown belonged to Lady Margaret Douglas.