Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy Two 02]

by Border Lass

  Only then did Amalie realize that the subject of her return to Elishaw had not arisen again. She doubted that her mother or Simon had given up the idea of marrying her to Sir Harald, but apparently they had realized it could do their cause no good for Lady Murray to drag her to Scott’s Hall and then home.

  Her mother’s next words made things clearer: “Do your knights all travel with you when you leave home, madam?”

  “Sir Kenneth will stay here with enough men to look after things. Sir Harald, Sir Garth, and the other men will be more than enough for this short journey.”

  “It will be especially pleasant to have Sir Harald along,” Lady Murray said. “I find him quite charming. I have not spoken with Sir Garth Napier, however. I look forward to making his acquaintance.”

  Amalie glanced at Garth, who had walked up behind the princess in time to hear her announce that he and Sir Harald would accompany her to Melrose.

  A thoughtful look entered his eyes as he shifted his gaze to Amalie.

  Remembering their last exchange, she lifted her chin. He might be riding with their party, but he had better understand that his advice to anyone other than Isabel was both undesirable and unnecessary.

  “Do you favor Melrose Abbey over Dryburgh, madam?” Lady Murray asked as they waited for the Murray men. “I prefer the latter. Such a beautiful setting.”

  “Yes, it is,” Isabel said. “I prefer Melrose because my lord husband did.”

  “You speak of James Douglas, of course,” Lady Murray said. “I do recall now that he lies buried in the churchyard there. But you have remarried,” she added with a frown. “Do you continue to visit his grave?”

  “Yes, I do,” Isabel said. “James Douglas was the love of my life, and until I can discover exactly how he died, he will not rest in peace.”

  “She looks gey displeased,” Rosalie whispered to Amalie.

  “Hush, dearling,” Amalie murmured back. “It is painful for her to speak of him, and we must respect her grief.”

  “But James Douglas has been dead two whole years!”

  “Rosalie, what are you prattling about?” Lady Murray demanded.

  “Naught of any import, madam,” Rosalie said easily. “I was just teasing Amalie. I have missed her, so pray do not scold me.”

  “Go and fetch your stitching, my dearling. You were too lazy yesterday and must be more industrious today. You know I do not tolerate idle hands.”

  “Aye, madam, I’ll go at once,” Rosalie said, casting a droll look at Amalie.

  Amalie watched her run upstairs and heard a commotion as she disappeared from sight. Sir Iagan came down almost at once afterward, shaking his head.

  “Nearly bowled me over,” he said with a smile. “That bairn has more energy than is good for any young woman.”

  His tone was indulgent, and Amalie realized that her parents both treated Rosalie much more kindly than they had treated her or Meg, or even their brothers. Not that they did not indulge Simon and Tom, for neither could do wrong now, it seemed, but their parents did not treat either of them as dotingly as they did Rosalie.

  The child had been only eleven when Amalie had left Elishaw, and in many ways she did not seem older now. But she was beginning to be a woman, and her body and features showed signs of maturity, if her personality did not.

  Sir Iagan came to Amalie and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Ye’ve grown into a beauty, lass. Ye do me proud, and ’tis glad I am to see it.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said doubtfully, recalling a time when men at Elishaw and elsewhere had termed the Murray daughters three of the homeliest lasses in the Borders. They had done so, however, only until Meg married. Now that she was wife to Buccleuch, who had a quick, fiery temper, the comments had ceased.

  Her father squeezed her shoulders, planted a kiss on her lips, and turned to make his bow to Isabel. “I thank ye, madam, for your hospitality and wish ye a safe journey to Melrose. Ye’ll be welcome at Elishaw whenever ye choose to come to us.”

  “Thank you, Sir Iagan,” Isabel said with a smile. “I should thank you for your daughter’s companionship these past months. She is a great comfort to me.”

  Simon and Tom came clattering down the stairs and led the way outside.

  As Amalie moved to follow, a touch on her arm stopped her, and she turned to find Sir Garth gazing somberly down at her. Heat fired her cheeks, and she had an instant desire to flee, although she could not have explained why.

  Garth saw the color flood her cheeks as he said, “Art still vexed with me?”

  “I . . . I thought I had vexed you,” she said. Then she squeezed her eyes shut as if she wished she had not spoken.

  He almost chuckled but decided that would be tactless. Instead, he said, “I did not mean to anger you. I was just uneasy, because to tease a man can be dangerous.”

  “I don’t tease. I want to discourage him.” She looked around, but even Isabel had gone outside. “I should go, sir. My brothers and my father are leaving.”

  “I know. I also heard that when your mother travels to Melrose tomorrow to stay the night there, Isabel will go, too. Simon is taking his men back to Lauder with him, and your father will spare only a few to accompany her ladyship and your sister, so the princess is likely to send some of her own men with them when they go on to Scott’s Hall.”

  “ ’Tis safe enough from Melrose to Rankilburn Glen, sir. No one would interfere with them,” Amalie said.

  “You may be right,” he said. “But Sir Kenneth told me that as the princess always travels with a large escort, she seeks to see other women as well protected. It was he who told me she will want to send some of us along to Scott’s Hall.”

  Amalie knew he was right. Isabel had done as much before, for other female travelers. It would disturb her to allow Lady Murray and Rosalie, who had been her guests, to depart with a smaller escort than the one with which they had arrived.

  She said, “I wonder if Isabel will stay longer than usual at Melrose, then.”

  He shook his head. “She need not. We can divide our group and still protect both parties. It is only about twenty miles to the Hall from Melrose, after all.”

  “Is it? I’ve not traveled there from here.”

  “We’ll follow Ettrick Water, which joins the Tweed at Melrose.” He hesitated, then said, “I shan’t return straightaway.”

  “You’re going away? But where?”

  “To Galloway.”

  A wave of disappointment struck her. She would miss him. Worse, if he went away and Sir Harald stayed, the latter would prove a nuisance. And if Simon tried to force the marriage he sought, she was not sure Isabel could protect her—especially if Simon acted under Fife’s direction.

  “What is it, lass? Don’t say you’ll miss me, for I shan’t believe it.”

  “Are you leaving for good?”

  “Nay, but I’ve learned that Fife is to journey through the Borders, and I’ll warrant Archie knows nowt of it. So I thought I’d better go myself to warn him. Sithee, Fife tried once to seize Hermitage, and Archie will want to do all he can to prevent him from making such mischief again.”

  Realizing he did not know that her brothers had taken part in the attempt on Hermitage, and not wanting to tell him, she said, “Fife is Chief Warden of the Borders now. Doubtless he thinks it is both his right and his duty to meet with landowners and inspect their estates.”

  He grinned. “That may be what is in Fife’s mind, but I can tell you that few Border lords will heed his orders if Archie issues contrary ones. Archie is still Warden of the West March and still considers himself lord of all three, despite anything Fife may think to the contrary. So Archie would not thank me for keeping this news to myself. I’ll be gone only a few days, though.”

  Amalie was silent, assuring herself that his absence would mean nothing to her, that Simon would stay at Lauder and she could easily manage Sir Harald.

  Although her disappointment lingered, it eased considerably when she realized
that her awareness that Garth would ride all the way to Threave Castle in Galloway to warn Archie about Fife had banished the last lingering vestige of concern that he might somehow serve Fife.

  Garth watched the expressions play across her fascinating face and wondered what she was thinking. She had looked near tears when he had said he was leaving. But then she had nearly smiled, so whatever had troubled her about his departure was nowt to what had pleased her.

  Thus did the lass continue to disturb his thoughts, so his dream the night before had been both prophetic and a well-deserved warning. That she attracted him was patently obvious. It was equally obvious that if he continued to respond to that attraction, he would soon find himself in the suds one way or another.

  Buccleuch’s image stirred in his mind’s eye then. When memory of the sticky web followed, he told himself firmly that he could not allow her to divert him more now, in any event, because it was important that he get word to Archie.

  He had first learned of Fife’s intent soon after the Murrays arrived, and had expected the first obstacle to warning Archie to be a lack of easy access to Isabel. In his position as serving knight, it was no part of his duty to approach her, let alone to request what might be lengthy discussion with her. Then it occurred to him that, as Kenneth was to stay at Sweethope, he would take charge of the journey to Melrose.

  Midway through that afternoon, as he had confidently expected, Kenneth told him that Isabel wanted to see him.

  “She’ll be in the garden, lad. Go to her there.”

  Garth found her with all of her ladies including Amalie.

  “You will take charge of my escort, sir,” Isabel said.

  She did not ask him to walk with her, however, so to keep her from dismissing him at once, he said, “I am honored, madam. I have traveled that way often to visit my kinsmen.”

  “I assumed that you had,” she said. “I thought, too, that you might enjoy a brief visit at the Hall, so I mean to send you and some of our men with Lady Murray and Rosalie from Melrose. You will return here as soon as you see them safely arrived and have rested your men and the horses.”

  “Yes, madam.” He hesitated.

  “Was there something you wanted to add, sir?”

  “There is, aye,” he said. Unable to think how to phrase his request without stirring undue curiosity among the other ladies, he was relieved when she stood and suggested that perhaps they should walk.

  “What is it?” she asked when they were beyond earshot.

  “Fife plans to travel through the Borders, and as he is beginning here, I’m thinking Archie kens nowt about it. I’ll need a few extra days to ride and tell him.”

  She nodded and asked a few questions but agreed that Archie should know of Fife’s plan. As he took his leave a few minutes later, his gaze met Amalie’s.

  When she looked wistful, as if she had decided after all to miss him, his loins stirred, and he realized that danger definitely lurked ahead.

  Chapter 11

  Amalie and the princess’s other ladies kept busy that afternoon and much of the evening, preparing for her to depart the next day with Lady Murray.

  As it was, they did not get off until the morning was half over. But that was due as much to thick fog as to Lady Murray’s strong distaste for early rising.

  At last, the fog dissipated, revealing high, hazy clouds. They were soon ready and mounted—except for Lady Murray, who preferred her horse litter.

  She was comfortable in it, though, and the gillie who guided her horses was one of Elishaw’s own. So Amalie expected few complaints.

  Seeing Sir Harald, she grimaced, realizing only then that he would take charge of seeing them back to Sweet-hope while Sir Garth rode on to Galloway.

  She tried to persuade herself that Sir Harald’s presence would give her further opportunity to discourage him. However, since she did not want to spend any time in his company, that thought just depressed her.

  With the added men from Elishaw, their cavalcade was larger than usual. But they set a good pace, despite the litter, and Isabel declared that they ought to reach the abbey comfortably by midafternoon.

  Amalie spent the first hour riding beside Sibylla, enjoying her sunny good humor. But neither objected when Rosalie guided her pony alongside Amalie’s and said, “You won’t mind if I ride with you, I hope. It grows tedious riding by our lady mother. She dozes unless the pace grows too fast to suit her. Then she scolds, as if I ought to have prevented it.”

  Amalie chuckled. “I doubt she scolds you often, dearling. You seem to have a knack for managing her.”

  “She does not require managing,” Rosalie said. “I know that you and Meg chafed under her strictures, but truly, she does not say such things to me. I’m more worried that she and our lord father will not let me marry than that they will press me to wed a man I do not know, or one I dislike, as they did with Meggie and have been trying to do with you.”

  Sibylla had considerately tightened her rein to let them draw ahead and talk privately. Even so, Amalie said only, “Our parents do seem very fond of you.”

  “I expect so,” Rosalie said with a shrug. “They rarely tell me I should not do something I might want to do, as you did. Why did you say I should not ride with any man, not even Simon or Tom? That seemed strange to me.”

  Realizing she had to choose her words carefully, and aware that Sibylla might well overhear them, Amalie said, “I was just noticing how pretty you are becoming, I expect. I worry that someone might try to take advantage of you. They do, you know.” Remembering what Garth had said, she added, “Sithee, love, men enjoy the chase and see pretty young ladies as prey to hunt.”

  Rosalie grinned impishly. “But that sounds amusing, and our brothers would not hunt me. Moreover, I like to ride with them. Tom is always merry and makes me laugh. And Simon teaches me interesting things.”

  “Simon rides with you?” Amalie could not recall his ever riding with her or Meg unless the whole Murray family traveled together.

  “Aye, sure, whenever he chances to be near Elishaw, he stops with us for a day or two. When he does, he takes me riding. And Tom has been helping our lord father run the estate for some months now. He is frequently too busy to ride with me, but he does whenever he can, and it gives me pleasure.”

  Recalling belatedly how little she had known of men, or anything else, at thirteen, Amalie said carefully, “Then you would be wise to use Simon and Tom to practice understanding men. Our father may be as helpful with that as our brothers, but you should learn to observe them all closely, Rosalie.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Amalie took another tack. “You will be visiting the royal court in Edinburgh in a year or two, and houses and castles of kinsmen and friends. In such company you will meet all manner of young men, and some not so young. By learning to recognize unusual behavior in our own menfolk, you will train yourself to judge men you don’t know. ’Tis much wiser than to assume that all men are as trustworthy as our father.”

  “Or Simon and Tom,” Rosalie said thoughtfully. “I begin to understand. But they are always much the same with me, so I don’t know what to look for.”

  “Simon has a wicked temper,” Amalie said. “If you don’t know that, you have been fortunate in never having stirred it. Father, too, gets angry quickly. Indeed, each of them expects always to get his own way, so I venture to suppose you have not yet crossed any of them.”

  “Or they just like me better than they like you,” Rosalie retorted saucily.

  “Rosalie—”

  “Oh, don’t scold,” she said, laughing. “I meant only that whilst there were three of us at home, and I too young for anyone to count, you and Meg just drew their anger. You especially were accustomed to say whatever came into your head.”

  “Was I?” It was hard to remember being so carefree.

  “Well, you did stop doing that shortly before you went away with Meg. Indeed, you grew unnaturally quiet then, I thought. But you can also be st
ubborn about getting your own way, so I warrant you just annoyed them more than I do.”

  Having said as much as she dared, and not wanting to encourage further discussion of her own habits, Amalie said, “I do tend to irritate Simon, don’t I? Even so, love, it will be good practice for you to learn the signs of even the smallest changes in their moods, so that you can better judge the many young men who will pursue you from the moment they clap eyes on you.”

  Rosalie giggled. “Do you truly think they will?”

  Amalie said sincerely, “I am sure of it.”

  Their route took them along the river Tweed, and although Amalie kept her eyes on the track ahead, she managed to stay aware of where Sir Harald and Garth were riding. She soon realized she would have little opportunity to snub Sir Harald, because Garth had sent him to lead the main body of men, well behind them.

  Four men-at-arms preceded their party, but Isabel did not like riding through clouds of dust, so she never allowed more than that to ride ahead unless they’d had word of potential danger threatening an area she passed through.

  As the knight in command, Garth rode with the forward party, and Amalie enjoyed watching how easily he controlled his mount. Occasionally, he dropped back near the princess but whether by Isabel’s choice or his, she could not tell.

  The ladies Averil and Nancy took turns, as usual, one riding beside Isabel while the other followed with either the lady Susan or Sibylla. Nancy was now with Susan, and Sibylla soon returned to ride three abreast with Amalie and Rosalie.

  They arrived at Melrose Abbey just a little later than Isabel had expected.

  Before they saw the abbey itself, on the north bank of the river Tweed just east of where it met Ettrick Water, they had skirted broad pasturelands filled with baaing, bleating sheep, and passed through orchards and across fields containing pigs or cattle. The abbey lands were extensive.

  As they rode downhill across a flower-strewn meadow bright with color, Amalie gazed sadly at the charred and broken walls of the once magnificent abbey. Before its destruction, it had occupied the site for over 250 years.

  Much of its stonework remained, and the monks had restored some buildings, but the sight reminded her yet again of why Scots hated the English so.