He bowed to usher her in, murmuring, "My lady's chamber."
"My prison, you mean," she angrily retorted.
"I thought I had anticipated your every comfort. What, pray, is missing?"
She thought frantically what she could say to hurt him, to belittle the comforts he had provided.
"In Edinburgh I had my own bathtub," she said grandly and, trying to think quickly for some thing else that was missing, said, "And... and I had a little hand mirror that amused me greatly."
He mockingly bowed himself out. "Little bitch," he said between his teeth, and she flushed scarlet.
Mrs. Hall; who was waiting to see her to bed, heard this endearment and exclaimed, "Och, I can hear ye've got him eating out of yer hand!"
"Oh, Mrs. Hall, he is a beast. It amuses him to see my fear. He's like a hunter circling his prey, and I am so helpless. I hope you can bear it here. I am sincerely sorry you are in this predicament because of me."
"Whist, lassie, 'tis a wonderful place to be., I only have your things to look to and that's not work, that's pleasure. The food here is so plentiful, the table fair groans when they serve it up. The servants' gossip is a treat for the ears. I've had my orders from his lordship himself. I am not to let on who you are, even to the other servants. You are supposed to be one of his sisters' friends from Edinburgh."
"Edinburgh;" Tabby recalled with a shudder. "My God, I cannot bear to think of the havoc that has been wreaked on my poor husband. He must-be mad with worry, and when he receives word that he must pay twenty thousand in gold for ransom, he will be ready to kill. Me, most likely. What a wretched way to repay the honor he did me. Mrs. Hall, I must find a way to escape and get back to Mr. Abrahams, so that he isn't forced to pay that ransom. You must help me if you can, and I will try to persuade the twins to help me. Alexandria is my friend, and Alex seems such a lovely boy, I feel he will do what is right."
'Into bed wi' ye. Perhaps the opportunity will present itself in the next few days."
She was just drifting off to sleep when Alexandria burst into her bedchamber. "Quick, Tab, lend me those riding britches you were wearing today. We're going on a raid— well, not really a raid, more a foray to pilfer a few things. Paris said Alexander was to go because there won't be much danger, only he has no stomach for it, and I'm going in his place."
"Oh, you cannot," said Tabby in alarm.
"Of course I can! None will know the difference. We are identical, except I can ride better and shoot better."
"I mean, the danger!" protested Tabby.
"There's no danger. We're going across the border into England."
"England!" exclaimed Tabby.
"God, it's not a thousand miles away. We just go straight down the coast into Berwick-on-Tweed, not eighteen miles from here. There are some very rich mansions there."
"He cannot go about stealing whatever he fancies," exclaimed Tabby.
Alexandria winked saucily. "He stole you, didn't he?"
Sleep proved too elusive for Tabby, and wrapped in a shawl, she left her bedchamber. She was worried sick. for Alexandria, out on a. dangerous raid,.aye, and worried for the others, she finally admitted to herself. It was a love— hate sort of thing. They were like the family she had never had, and already she was beginning to feel possessive of them. She had always heard whispers of Borderers who rode out in the dead of night, and they had seemed exciting tales of adventure. The reality was something else, Paris Cockburn was a thief, who thrived on breaking all the rules. He -was a law unto himself. She must escape the clutches of this .man. A part of her wanted to stay, but she knew these thoughts were dangerous. If she lived with them much longer; perhaps she would never be able to tear herself from this family, which was beginning to get entangled in her heartstrings.
Standing on the ramparts of one of the towers, but keeping a safe distance from the edge, she thought she saw a silvery figure below. She waved, but the figure seemed to vanish, and she thought perhaps she had imagined it. Her imagination was beginning to take over because she could not help visualizing one disaster after another. Her chest became tight, and she found it difficult to breathe with all of her worrying. She began to shiver, then finally realized she could stay up there no longer, dressed as she was. She returned to her chamber, intending to get under the covers but found herself dressing warmly and then returning to her lookout.
The hours slipped by so very slowly. She told-herself not to worry because Paris would lead them out of any danger they might encounter. This thought only led to the thought that he would give his life to protect theirs, and naturally she was wracked with worry for him once again. One minute she told herself sternly he deserved anything he got; the next minute she was praying for a safe deliverance. She was not in the habit of bothering God over trivial things, so she hoped fervently He would listen to her now.
Dawn was creeping up the sky. She had been there all night. A strung-out line of horses was silhouetted against the lightening sky. Each rider led a packhorse. Morn was dawning quickly now. As they rode closer, she made out Rogue in the lead. Her eyes quickly searched the other riders until she recognized the slight figure of Alexandria, far in the rear. What a relief! Suddenly, she could breathe again. Oh, no, what was that on one of the packhorses? Surely not a bathtub! My God, yes, and another one carried a long mirror in a mahogany frame. Damn him, he had risked their lives and given her an unbearable night of worry just to appease a-silly whim she had had. What kind of a man was he to go to that much trouble for her? She sternly crushed her feelings of gratitude toward him, reminding herself he had only done it to bring home to her the realization that he could and would do anything he wanted.
She ran from the ramparts, not stopping in her chamber, but carried on until she was in the castle yard. She ran out through the gate and down the grassy slope to meet them. The early sun was shining now; the dew was heavy and drenched her feet. Surely they should have reached the castle by now. She ran over the next hill and stopped dead at the sight that met her eyes. Paris and about six of his men had stripped off their clothes and stood thigh-deep, refreshing their bodies in the cool water. She had never seen a man naked before. The sight deeply shocked her. They were so huge. All of them over six feet, their muscles bulging and their chests and arms matted with hair. The ones with their backs to her displayed white buttocks, and the ones facing her... my God!
Alexandria rode up and shouted, "Let's get out of here before they insist I join them."
By the time she reached her chamber, Alexandria had changed out of her brother's clothes and was ready to explode with her adventure. "It was the most fun I've had, in my whole life!" Alexandria passionately exclaimed, her face alive with excitement.
"Didn't Paris discover you?"
"Men are so thick, you can deceive them right under their noses."
"I almost died with worry about you. It was the longest night of my life:"
"You must be mad!" stated Alexandria, not able to comprehend her friend's fear. "In Berwick we looted the most magnificent house. It belonged to Queen Elizabeth. Just wait until you see the bathtub Paris got for you. Fit for a queen!"
"You're not telling me he's stolen a bathtub that belonged to the Queen?" asked Tabby incredulously.
"Why not? She won't be needing it, she's been dead a year!'
Alexandria was able to steal away for an afternoon of sleep before the evening's revelry. Her sisters were expecting some of their admirers tonight. Not so Tabby. Paris gave Alexander orders to give her another riding lesson. The instructions were explicit. Mount, once around the castle, dismount. Mount, once around the outside of the castle, dismount. To be repeated thirty times each.
After the twenty-fifth round, Alex held up his hand. "After a dozen times, I thought you would be begging me to let you stop. After twenty, I thought you would be offering me blandishments that would make me swoon with desire. But what can I give you to stop now?" he Begged with mock fatigue.
"Don't you dare to y
awn. I, for one, know you weren't up all night." She looked at the handsome young man with the open, honest face. He made his feelings for her obvious. His heart was in his eyes every time he looked at her. Tabby decided she must risk telling him about her plans to escape, and hoped that he would help her. "Alexander, I have to be able to ride; it is my only hope of escape."
"Why would you want to escape?" he asked, surprised.
"Let me explain. I lived in an orphanage all my life. I only got through the terrible years by dreaming of the day someone would come and take me away. My husband married me out of that orphanage. I had nothing. He was the only person ever to do anything for me. Alexander, I owe him my life. Now he will be asked to pay a ransom of twenty thousand in gold. I cannot possibly sit back and allow your brother to do that to him."
"When you put it that way, I can understand your principles perfectly. Have you explained to Paris how strongly you feel about this? I know I could refuse you nothing." He smiled. "Perhaps it would be the same with him, especially if you got him alone, away from the family.
She smiled back. "When I talk with you, we reach an understanding. When I talk with Paris, sparks fly! In fact, the only time I'm not paralyzed with fear of him is when he taunts me until my anger flares."
"He only does that for the sheer pleasure of looking at you, and simply because it is a way of getting you to respond to him."
Chapter 4
Whenever Paris needed advice, he turned to his father's brother Magnus, the powerful Earl of Ormistan. Magnus treated him like the son he had never had but always longed for. He had named Paris his heir, but the younger man sometimes resented his uncle's authority. The trouble was, they were too much alike. Each assumed command with an inborn power and authority.
Tantallon Castle was only ten miles up the coast, but half that distance was spent climbing, the other half descending the mountain that stood between. It was wild terrain, totally uninhabited, except for sheep and the predators that stalked them. The view 'from the mountain was unsurpassed, giving a clear vista of the Firth of Forth and the historic town of St. Andrews beyond. Now it was a pleasurable ride, but in winter it was an arduous endurance test. Tantallon Castle was a magnificent sight in the sunshine, glowing a deep pink, the color of strawberries. Despite its beauty, it was a formidable stronghold, overlooking the North Sea. Paris always thrilled that someday it would be his. He had his own apartments, set aside for him by Magnus, so that he could stay overnight on his visits. To get inside the castle grounds entailed crossing two bridges and entering two guarded gates, but once these safeguards were breached, he used outside steps that led up to his own chambers. He need never disturb the household if he arrived late.
Now, however, he rode through the main entrance, which was let down for him as soon as the guard recognized him. He ran up to the living quarters, sure of a warm welcome. Magnus had kept Margaret Sinclair as his mistress for almost fifteen years. His wife, the old countess, had died before Paris was ten, so he could only vaguely recall a picture of the aging woman who had been his aunt.
"Where are you?" he called. "Do you do nothing but lie with Margaret day and night?" he teased as his uncle appeared:
"Paris, welcome." The older man beamed and-held out his arms. As tall as Paris, but much heavier and thicker in his old age, he still had a full head of hair, but alas, it flamed red no longer. It was now iron gray. His face, once heartbreakingly handsome, lay in ruins, emphasizing the hooked nose and piercing eyes.
Margaret Sinclair came out to the balcony at the top of the stairs, a perfect setting where a woman could be admired from below. Her blue-black hair fell about her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled at the sight of Paris. She wore a red velvet gown with the neck cut so low, her breasts were in danger of popping out. Paris knew he could have had her at any time; she made no secret that she desired him. She was certainly beautiful enough and, though she must be near thirty, looked ten years younger. He flirted outrageously with her, but that was as far as it went. He gave her a broad wink to assure her that his words had only been in jest, and she saucily returned his wink.
"A word in private, Magnus," he murmured low.
Magnus turned to look up at Margaret. "Get the poor lad something to eat, and fetch some of that mead you brewed. You know he's crazy about the stuff, Margaret."
She was shrewd enough to realize she would miss a deal of the conversation while she trekked to the still-room. She shrugged. Perhaps she could get it out of one or the other when she got them alone later.
Paris said without hesitation, "I'm holding a bride for ransom, and I would like to know the best way to communicate without revealing my identity."
"Who's the groom?" asked Magnus, his interest-piqued.
"Maxwell Abrahams, the usurer," said Paris.
Magnus whistled, all attention now. "High stakes, eh? Well, let me think on that awhile. Ah, here's Margaret at last. The poor lad's faint from hunger. I'll leave him in your capable hands."
Her capable hands touched Paris at every opportunity. He stifled a smile. There was nothing subtle about Margaret when she wanted something, and she made it plain she wanted him.
"Paris," she said, making his name sound like a caress, "you never come to see us these days. Even now, it's business that brings you, and not pleasure."
"Is it?" he asked, giving her no information whatsoever.
"We don't see nearly enough of you," she said suggestively, her eyes resting on his body.
"You could visit us," he replied lightly.
She quickly veiled her expression of distaste. "That tribe hates me."
"I like you, Margaret, isn't that enough?" he teased.
"You would be more than enough for me," she hinted, brushing his hand as she gave him the wine cup.
He laughed to lighten her mood. "If I didn't know better, I'd say Magnus has been neglecting you."
She looked him full in the face, her dark eyes holding his for long seconds. "He is over fifty," she said pointedly.
Magnus's voice boomed across the chamber. "That's enough pampering, Margaret. Come, Paris, my favorite mare foaled yesterday. You will be green with envy when you see him."
"Which sire? Your black stallion, Diablo?" asked Paris.
Margaret sighed. Men and horses. What chance did she have in such a competition? "Paris," she called after him; "will you carry a letter to my mother?"
He bowed. "Of course, Margaret; you know f am always at your service."
At mention of Margaret's mother, Mrs. Sinclair, who was Anne's nurse, Magnus inquired, "How is it with Anne?"
The muscle in Paris's jaw turned to iron, and his eyes turned cold. "She is beautiful and ugly, mad and sane, still-crippled, in mind if not in body. She is Anne— what can I say?"
Magnus just shook his head, and they resumed their conversation of horses. As Paris admired the colt, he asked, "Didn't we get the stallion in that raid across the border a couple of years back?"
"The very same," said Magnus. "Give the devil his due, the English know how to breed horses. By the way, I haven't thanked you for that case of French brandy you sent. Magnifique!"
"The French also do some things well." Paris smiled.
Magnus got a faraway look in his eyes. "The only time I was ever in love, she was French," he said wistfully. He shook his head to dispel the ghosts. Mention of the French girl sent Paris's thoughts winging to Tabby, so he probed deeper. "You old devil, I bet you don't even recall her last name!"
The ploy did not work; Magnus smiled secretly. "I'll remember her till the day I die."
Paris was aware of the dilemma he would be thrown into if Magnus's former love was Tabby's mother. His heart wanted her to be his half cousin, not his half sister, but his brain clearly told him that if Tabby was Magnus's daughter, it could be the making of an horrendous battle between the two men, if Magnus discovered all his actions. Paris decided it was safer to let things lie.
Magnus said briskly, "My advice regarding Abrahams
... get in touch with Callum McCabe, attorney-at-law. As a neutral third party he can negotiate for you. I've used him, and he did work for the King."
"But this is outside the law. I could be hanged for what I'm doing," protested Paris.
Magnus shook his head. "If you want a bigger scoundrel than yourself, look to the law. It's expensive, but they know schemes you haven't even dreamt of yet. They know all the twists and turns, and more importantly, all the loopholes."
Paris grinned. "I'll ride to Edinburgh straight from here in the morning: I've good clothes at the town house. You're right, a letter from a solicitor would carry more weight than a crude ransom note."
When Tabby found out Paris had gone to Tantallon to visit his uncle and likely would not be back until the next day, she realized that tonight she would have an opportunity to speak with someone outside this family. Someone who could possibly deliver her. When Robert Kerr, the Laird of Cessford, arrived, he brought with him his brother Andrew and his friend Lord Logan, who had been wanting to meet the Cockburn sisters for a long time.
Robert had been pursuing Damascus since they were both fifteen. It was taken for granted by the family that they would wed as soon as they were old enough. He came over regularly on Monday night, and the evenings were always festive; not actually a party but the next thing to it. Robert's castle at Cessford was only two miles from Logan's, so they had been friends for years, bound by lands that ran together.
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