Davie decided he’d been called bairn once too often. Gathering a full gob of spit in his mouth, he shot it in Colin’s face. Gavin backhanded him, bursting open his lip and felling him to the floor.
Gavin ran his hand through his tangle of black hair. “Christ’s blood, Ram will ha’ ma nuts fer this. Who was on guard?” he demanded, glaring at the men-at-arms. “Why wasna the alarm given at the first glimmer o’ fire?”
“We thought it a Beltane fire,” the mosstrooper said stupidly.
“Lazy lounging bastards—all ye are fit fer is drinkin’, fightin’, and fuckin’.” Then as he rubbed the back of his neck, he glanced down at his own naked body and recalled what he’d been doing while Douglas crops burned. “Get him out o’ ma sight. Lock him up downstairs.” He glowered at the Douglas men. “Ye’ve two minutes tae get mounted. We’ll catch them or see where the trail leads. When Ram gets back, one o’ ye will swing for this.” He rubbed his neck again, fervently hoping it wouldn’t be him.
Chapter 4
Tina Kennedy was very excited about venturing out on Beltane. The chance meeting with Patrick Hamilton had heightened the excitement for her. Let the arrogant young lord wonder what she was up to!
She and Heath joined in the merrymaking wholeheartedly, leaping through the flames while the fire was small enough, then joining in the frenzied dancing when the bonfire was piled with brush and young trees and finally thick logs from oaks that had been felled and dragged from the forest to feed the Beltane fires.
It was the ancient rite of spring that all cultures had celebrated in one form or another since pagan times, and Tina wouldn’t have missed the exhilaration of this night for anything. By midnight, however, men and women, young and old, were either falling-down drunk or sexually aroused to the point where they tore off their clothes and copulated with any willing stranger.
Tina was visibly shocked, and Heath was quick to drag her away from the abandoned writhings. “It’s time I got you back to Doon,” he said firmly. As he lifted her into her saddle, she looked down into his warm brown eyes. “Is it always like this?” she asked in a distressed voice.
“Aye. Animals! They fool you by walking upright, don’t they?”
She was subdued on the ride home, and Heath was thankful. He never forbade her nor read her a sermon about the things she wished to do. Rather, he let her experience everything and trusted to her own good sense whether she repeated the folly.
He stayed with her until she crossed the drawbridge of Doon, then turned his Thoroughbred and galloped south.
Tina stabled her mare in a rear stall, then quietly rubbed her down and covered her with a plaid. Suddenly the bailey was filled with horses, men, and herded animals. The cattle lowed, and about fifty sheep ran baaing into the stables, setting the dogs barking and the hens flapping.
Duncan’s voice came terse and harsh to his men. “Get these bloody sheep tae the far meadow an’ the cattle tae pasture by the river.”
Tina walked from the rear stall just as Duncan lit the lantern. Her eyes were like saucers. “God’s blood, you’ve been on a raid!”
“Fold yer tongue behind yer teeth. What the hell are ye doin’ out here at this ungodly hour? Get tae bed, and keep yer mouth shut!”
Hands on hips, she was about to defy him when he raised his fist to her, and she saw he was in no mood to argue with a woman. Shrugging one pretty shoulder, she lifted her skirt and picked her way through the bleating menagerie.
Tina’s blood was high, preventing sleep, so she arose at dawn and made her way to the kitchens, unwilling to wait until breakfast was served in the hall. Mr. Burque’s face was tinged with green as he supervised the food preparation for scores of mouths while trying to keep his gorge from rising.
“Too much Beltane,” Tina whispered knowingly.
“Too much whisky! It rots the gut as well as the brain No wonder the Scots are thick-tongued!”
Duncan kicked open the kitchen door. “Christ, mon, when do we eat? Where the hell’s the pot-boy wi’ the ale?” he demanded before slamming the door.
Mr. Burque rolled his eyes. “Something’s wrong— gravely wrong Duncan is the best natured of all the Kennedys.”
“They went on a raid last night,” Tina whispered.
“That should put him in a benign mood. ‘Tis a borderer’s favorite pastime.”
“I thought that was wenching,” she whispered.
He shook his head very gingerly and said, “No, no, chérie, that is Frenchmen.”
She stole a fresh pastry from the table and said, “I’ll find out why he’s in a filthy temper.”
The Kennedys were merchants and Doon was no garrison, but they did have some men-at-arms. They sat morosely at the trestle tables in the hall. Usually their din was deafening, so Tina did not need to ask if something had gone amiss. “Well, this is a riotous company. Where’s Donal?” she asked, suddenly apprehensive.
The pot-boy’s hands shook as he filled Duncan’s tankard, and as a result the ale sloshed over the rim. “Cursed lackey!” Then Duncan told her shortly, “Donal’s away tae Kirkcudbright.”
“Let me guess—Andrew went home to Carrick, and Callum to Newark.” Tina grinned. “You divided the spoils and departed in six different directions. Duncan, that was brilliant strategy. Why are you fierce as a bear with a burr up his bum?”
Duncan looked at her bleakly. “Davie,” he muttered.
“Davie?” she repeated, puzzled. “You think he’ll rat on you out of spite for not taking him along?”
“We did take the little piss-ass.”
Her throat tightened. “Where is he?”
Duncan flared, “Why are ye forever stickin’ yer nose intae men’s affairs?”
“He’s been wounded,” she cried, running toward the stairs.
“Tina!” Duncan’s voice sounded anguished. “He didna ride back wi’ us—he’s missin’.” “Missing?” she echoed.
“Must ye repeat everythin’ like a bloody demented parrot?”
“Ride out and look for him!” she ordered. “God’s passion, I’ll go!”
“We’ve been out lookin’—as close as we dare go. I think they captured him.”
She was angry now. “Go and demand his return— threaten to pull their bloody castle down stone by stone! Who has him? Who did you raid?”
Duncan’s mouth hardened, as if he couldn’t get the name past his teeth. Finally he rasped, “Douglas.”
“The Black Ram?” she whispered, and the color drained out of her face, leaving her lips bloodless and trembling. Her gaze encompassed all the Kennedy men, and none could look her in the eye. She was both appalled and afraid. “Do you realize what you’ve done? Challenged the Douglas might?” she whispered huskily. “God’s death, why did you risk all? Our Kennedy motto is Consider the end. How could you be so brainless—so reckless?”
“The Hamiltons will take the fall fer this raid.” Patrick Hamilton’s devil-may-care face flashed before her eyes, and she groaned and sat down hopelessly upon a bench. “But they’ve got David,” she pointed out.
“He’s no’ a redhead like the rest o’ us. If he folds his tongue behind his teeth, they’ll never guess he’s a Kennedy.”
“He’s only a boy!” she cried. “You know what blackhearted bastards the Douglases are. They’ll torture him. My God, Duncan, you must do something—anything!”
“We’ll wait fer Donal. We’ll lie low today. Davie won’t open his mouth for fear Kennedy blood will stain the swords of Douglas. If we’re no’ careful, this raid may reap us more grief than spoils.”
Valentina avoided her sister Beth for fear of alarming her. Every half hour she climbed to the parapets of Doon to anxiously scan the horizon for a sign of Davie or any other. Fear had a tight grip upon her as she paced back and forth. She knew a need to scream, yet her throat felt closed as if she couldn’t scream if she tried. She had a very vivid imagination that was so graphic, it made her shudder at what they might do to Davie or to every Ke
nnedy breathing if they set their black hearts to it.
The Kennedys had had no dealings with the Douglases in her lifetime because of the tragedy that had torn the two clans apart when she was first born. When her mother had come up from England to marry Lord Kennedy, his young sister Damaris had become her best friend. At the wedding Alexander Douglas had seen Damaris for the first time and he wanted her. A whirlwind courtship resulted in a quick marriage, the Kennedys thinking the heir to the title and fortune of Douglas a brilliant match. How wrong they had been!
While Damaris had still been a bride, her husband had poisoned her in a jealous rage. Tina shuddered, desperately hoping the hatred between the two clans would not flare up to destroy them. Perhaps David already lay dead. A sob escaped her as she said a fervent prayer to Saint Jude. If Davie was alive, escape was his only hope.
The bruise-colored clouds gathered above her head and cast an ominous pall over the whole countryside. She felt caged like a prisoner, completely attuned to Davie’s condition. She knew if she didn’t do something, she would go mad. She needed to be active to release the fear, worry, and dread that clutched her heart like a mail-clad fist.
She ran down to her chamber and rummaged about her wardrobe until her hand closed upon a lavender wool gown. Valentina was superstitious and believed any shade of purple was a lucky color for her. She concealed her knife inside one riding boot, then pulled on the other and her velvet cloak and went cautiously down to the stables.
When she rode out, Tina had no conscious destination in mind—she simply needed to free herself from the suffocating walls of Doon. She rode on and on, following a direct path eastward, never looking back, never slowing her pace. She was blind to the field of bluebells through which she cantered. She was oblivious to the intoxicating scent that wafted upon the breeze. She was deaf to the screaming peewits and the baaing sheep. Tina’s mind was obsessed with the plight of her brother. It blotted out all else.
Gradually it came to her where she was heading, and she drew rein and looked about apprehensively. She had followed the River Ayr, and though she had never ridden this far upriver before, she knew it led straight to Douglas. She rode past burned and blackened fields, saw village people rebuilding two burned huts, then rode out of the village toward the castle, which sat apart, alone and brooding
She knew she must somehow get inside, yet she knew it would be futile to simply try to ride in. She would get no farther than the guard on the drawbridge. Her thoughts flashed about, quick as mercury. She pushed her fear away from her and thought of Davie. The only certain way of gaining entrance to Castle Dangerous was if a Douglas took her inside. A plan came to her whose very audacity made her tremble. She would stage a riding accident—her own accident. She was a helpless woman, young and beautiful, surely the men of Douglas would come to her rescue. She concentrated solely on making her fall look like a genuine accident. She tangled her reins in a gorse thicket, loosened the girth strap so that her saddle slipped, then lay down upon the ground, gathering her purple velvet cloak about her body and flinging out her arm as if she had tried to save herself Then she screamed at the top of her voice, closed her eyes and waited
Almost immediately she began to wish she had not done this reckless thing. The rainstorm that had held off all morning dropped from the low sky in torrents She lay still as the deluge soaked through to her skin, making her shiver uncontrollably. Tina knew it wasn’t just the cold that was making her shiver. Now that she had done this impulsive, reckless thing, she had nothing to do but lie there and imagine what might happen to her in Douglas hands.
If she had been witness to the scene earlier, when Ramsay Douglas had returned to find his cattle lifted and his hay and oat crops burned, she would have fled for her life. He had given his two brothers such a dressing-down that Gavin finally put up his fists and shouted, “I’ll fight ye and be damned if it puts an end tae this harangue!”
Ram Douglas in full spate was not a pretty sight. His pewter-colored eyes glittered like hard diamonds, and his dark face looked as if it were chiseled from granite. They hadn’t expected his return until well after dark. No wonder they called him Hotspur—he must have ridden a hundred and fifty miles without pause. Though he was hardened, the fact that he’d had little rest in the past three days added an extra edge to his vile temper. Next he turned his blistering tongue on the Douglas moss-troopers, denouncing them as lazy, drunken idlers who thought of nothing but their pricks. With a powerful arm he swept their tankards of ale from the table to the floor. “Not bad enough ye let the bastards lift the cattle an’ burn the crops—ye let them escape! I couldha overlooked it if ye’d had a row o’ stinkin’ Hamiltons swingin’ by their necks. I couldha overlooked it if ye’d retrieved the livestock—but ye couldna even find a clear trail! Maybe half rations will clear yer thick heads.” He’d turned on his heel in disgust, his silver spurs striking sparks on the flagstones as he went himself to find the trail. Only his wolfhound Boozer had enough courage to keep him company.
He inspected the burned huts and told the womenfolk to take their bairns to the castle until their homes could be rebuilt. Then he accompanied a small group of his tenant farmers into the fields. “We’ll replant wi’ oats and hope for a second crop. Get seed from the castle stores.”
They gave him a tally of the sheep and cattle missing, and he promised to replace the beasts.
“The sheep had all been sheared o’ their winter wool, but it were stored in the sheds alongside the hay. It went up in smoke,” a tenant told him grimly.
“I’ll send the men-at-arms to repair the houses and replant the fields. They’re on leave from patrolling the borders for a month. I don’t want them idling about wi’ naught tae do save drink and procreate,” he said, grinning.
They watched him go, their hearts filled with gratitude. He had a black reputation for harshness, yet he was always more than fair to his Douglas tenants and their families.
The embers of his fiery temper were considerably banked when he saw with his own eyes that there was no clear trail and that the animal tracks went off in at least six different directions. Then the heavens opened, and he cursed the resulting deluge that would wash away all traces. Why the hell couldn’t this rain have fallen before the raid to wet the oats and keep them from burning?
He was subdued as he turned his stallion’s head toward Douglas and whistled for the Boozer to come to heel. The castle was in sight when suddenly the great wolfhound loped ahead of him to investigate a riderless horse that seemed to be tangled in a thicket.
Tina had never been more afraid in her life when a gigantic, hairy animal leaped upon her limp body Her eyes flew open, and she discerned that it was a ferocious hound twice the size of any she’d ever seen. Immediately she closed her eyes and bit her lips to prevent a scream of terror from escaping. If the creature thought she was dead perhaps it wouldn’t rend her limb from limb. Then she heard a man’s deep voice cursing, and her body shuddered like a leaf in the wind.
“Heel! God’s passion, what the hell have ye found here? Looks like a drowned rat.” The man’s voice was deep and resonant and sent a chilling shiver of fear down her back. She felt herself being lifted as if she weighed no more than a child, then without ceremony he threw her face-down across his saddle.
She risked a quick glimpse and couldn’t believe how high she was off the ground. His horse was as oversized as his hound. She could have cried with chagrin at his cavalier treatment of her as her head hung down and her wet hair trailed down the stallion’s long flanks.
As Ram untangled the reins of her mare, it screamed in fear as the enormous black stallion tried to bite it upon the neck. Ram smote the brute with his fist. “Nay, Ruffian—I’ll admit ‘tis a fancy piece, but ye’ll no’ mount it while I stand here taking a drenching.”
Omigod, the brute is going to let his stallion ruin my mare, she thought wildly, and emitted a groan of despair. When they reached the bailey, Ram Douglas threw the reins of both horses to
a groom. “Keep them separated,” he ordered. “I’ll no’ have him waste his valuable seed on a piece o’ cheap horseflesh.”
“Looks like an expensive mount tae me, yer lordship.”
“Did I ask fer yer opinion, man?” Ram asked shortly. He lifted the soggy burden from Ruffian’s back none too gently and carried her through the massive studded doors of the castle. He carried her straight through to the hall where there was a roaring fire and deposited her upon a carved wooden settle.
He pulled off her sodden cloak and threw it to a servant, who spread it over a stool to dry, then the man knelt to remove his master’s thigh-high boots.
Forcing herself to be totally limp with lashes lowered to her cheeks, she felt a strong, callused hand firmly take her chin and lift her face for his perusal. A flicker of recognition showed in Ram’s eyes as the firelight showed him the lass had red hair. He’d seen her before, and he knew exactly where. His heart skipped a beat. When he’d seen her ride in to the Gypsy camp, he’d coveted her. Now here she was delivered up to him!
Tina opened her eyes slowly and put a trembling hand to her head. “Wh-where am I?” she asked. “Is this my home?”
Ram Douglas stared at her fiercely, afraid that she had sustained some terrible hurt in her fall. “This is Douglas Castle,” he said as both his brothers came to investigate.
Tina tried not to shudder at the name, but she couldn’t help it. The only thing she had control over was her face. Her voice was unnaturally high-pitched and jerky from the threat of impending tears. The dark-visaged man who sat beside her was so broad-shouldered, he blotted out the rest of the room He was clearly the figure of authority, and she knew instinctively that this was the man she must convince. She knew she must say something to confirm that she had received a blow to the head and wasn’t in her right senses. She looked helplessly into Ram’s glittering eyes and asked, “Are—are you my father?”
He was nettled at the insult. He found her unbelievably alluring, yet she thought him old. His voice cut through his brothers’ laughter. “Christ, I don’t deny the possibility of by-blows, but I’ll be damned if I couldha fathered a woman grown. What’s yer game?” he demanded.
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