by Border Lass
“If you are asking me to apologize for putting you over my knee, you will wait a long time for it. All actions have consequences, which is why one should think before acting. You did not. In troth, neither did I, but I’ve trained long and hard to react swiftly when attacked, and I did. It would be disingenuous to apologize for that, because given the same circumstances, I’d do it again. So I won’t apologize.”
She continued to gaze at him, and his own words echoed in his mind.
He touched her cheek, stroking with one finger, and when she did not react, he met her accusing gaze and said, “I know it sounds as if we reacted the same way, but we did not. I did nowt but touch your shoulder. You reacted to your own anger, not to mine. I did not deserve your attack.”
She drew a breath, then reached up and took his hand from her cheek but did not let go of it. The temptation to kiss her grew stronger. He wrapped his fingers around hers, and when she did not pull away, he searched her gaze.
She licked her lips again. “I think I should—”
“Wait,” he said as she paused. He’d heard noises of arrival in the hall.
“I can’t wait, or I’ll lose my courage,” she said. “Sithee, I thought it was Simon at first, but now . . . now I don’t know—”
The hall door rattled, and they heard Sibylla’s voice on the other side.
“Faith, but some dolt has bolted this door on the inside,” she declared. “I shall have to go round to open it.”
Putting a finger to his lips, Garth reached past Amalie, opened the door, and urged her ahead of him into the corridor, shutting the door behind him.
When she would have turned toward the entry hall, doubtless to take the main stairs up to her bedchamber, he shook his head and drew her past the service stair to the door into the north wing instead.
Amalie wanted to curse Sibylla.
She did not know why she had chosen that moment to tell Garth she had thought the second man in the room with Fife at Scone had been Simon. Perhaps, she thought, she had wanted to give him something to make up for hitting him. But she had told him, however obliquely, and his mind was quick enough to grasp the gist.
She had to explain.
But as he silently closed the door between the passageway to the north wing and the corridor to the entry hall, she heard Sibylla’s quick footsteps approaching and knew she dared not say a word.
Her heart pounded, and Garth was too close to her for her own comfort. Moreover, her emotions were in a turmoil the likes of which she had not known before. First, she had been pleased with herself and with Garth for besting Sir Harald as they had. Then, instead of expected praise from Garth, she had drawn censure, surprising and angering her. And then he had humiliated her.
Remembering the consequences she had suffered made her swallow hard, but she could no longer blame him for reacting as he had. Much as she would have liked to think their actions were the same and that he had been a beast to punish her, she knew he was right. She had attacked him.
She also believed he had spoken the truth about why he had grasped her shoulder. Knowing he had been about to apologize made her feel even worse.
“Sibylla’s gone into the hall from the anteroom, lass,” he said quietly. “But you’d better let me leave here first. Wait a few moments so I can make sure no one else is likely to intercept you, and then you can use either stairway.”
“But I shouldn’t stay here,” she protested. “Besides, I want to tell you—”
“You’ll have to tell me later,” he interjected. “No one else will come into this passageway. The lads who look after Kenneth’s room and mine use the outer door, never this one, and Kenneth left for the dormer before I went outside.”
“But it wasn’t Simon I heard. I just thought it might be before I got close.”
He said quietly, “I doubt you know what you think right now, but we’ll talk it all out later. Now, we must both go.” With that, he put a hand under her chin, tilted her face up, and kissed her soundly on the lips.
“Loathsome,” she muttered as he opened the door. “Just like Sir Harald.”
She thought she detected a smile, but then he was gone, shutting the door behind him. Her lips still burned from the touch of his.
Opening the door to look into the corridor a minute or two later and finding it reassuringly empty, she darted out and up the stairs to her bedchamber, where Bess, the maid who attended her, was sweeping the floor.
“I were just about to go downstairs, me lady. I didna think ye’d be back from your ride so soon.”
“Prithee, fetch my gray kirtle, Bess. I can take off this skirt and tunic by myself, but I need to hurry if I’m to go down and break my fast with the others.”
“Aye, me lady,” the girl said, going quickly to the kist where the gray kirtle lived and pulling it out to give it a good shake.
When Amalie went back downstairs to find the others at the table, Sibylla gave her a look of amusement, making her wonder how much she had guessed. But Isabel looked surprised to see her and said, “Sibylla said you had gone for a ride.”
“I got hungry,” Amalie said, careful to look at neither Garth nor Sibylla.
To her relief, no one else questioned her, and conversation was desultory.
Garth left as soon as he had eaten some beef and bread and drunk a mug of ale. It seemed easier for her to breathe after that, but her emotions refused to settle.
As the day passed, whenever she remembered how abruptly he had pulled her across his knees, anger flamed again.
When she remembered his kiss, her emotions were less predictable. Anger vied with other feelings, some more physical than emotional.
During the midday meal, she ignored him as completely as she ignored Sir Harald. But when the ladies adjourned to the warm, sunny garden afterward, she seemed able to think of nothing that did not immediately lead to Garth. She even wondered if he had noticed that she was ignoring him. Did he care?
Calling herself a fool, she focused on the garment she was mending for Isabel until a gillie came to inform the princess that two riders were approaching.
“Likely, it be nobody, madam, for they carry no banner and one looks more like a lad than a full-grown man. But ye’ve said ye want warning when men come, and the other be one o’ the biggest men I ever saw, so I thought ye’d want to know.”
Amalie’s gaze met Isabel’s as the princess smiled. “I’m thinking you may know them,” she said. “Go and see if you do, and then come tell us the news. If you don’t know them, leave them to Sir Kenneth or Sir Garth and come back.”
Setting aside her mending, hoping the riders were from the Hall with news of Meg’s baby, Amalie shook out her skirt and hurried to the gate. Opening it, she looked into the yard, then snatched up her skirts and ran to meet them.
In the refectory hall of the men-at-arms’ dormer, Garth had also received word of the visitors. He paused long enough to finish issuing orders to the men with him for the afternoon training and then went to see who had come.
As he stepped into the yard, he saw Amalie on tiptoe, her arms tight around the larger man, who gazed down fondly at her, his huge hands lightly touching her shoulders. The other one was a gawky, redheaded lad nearly as tall as she was but less than half the weight of the man she hugged so fiercely.
Garth strode to meet them, saying, “Unhand her ladyship, you ruffian!”
When all three turned toward him, looking by turn guiltily amused, wary, and annoyed, he grinned, put out his hand, and said, “Welcome to Sweethope Hill, Tam. Any other women here you’d like to hug?”
The huge man known by the unlikely name of Jock’s Wee Tammy served as captain of Buccleuch’s fighting tail. He returned Garth’s firm handshake, but his expression turned as wary as the lad’s when Amalie said indignantly, “I was hugging him, sir.” On a challenging note, she added, “He is a very good friend of mine.”
“Sakes, my lady, have a care,” Tam said. “Ye’ll be havin’ ’im think—”
/>
“You wrong me, Tam,” Garth interjected. “I know you well enough to be sure you’ve been a good friend to her ladyship. But who is this lad with you?”
“I be another o’ her good friends,” the lad said, grinning at Amalie.
As Garth opened his mouth to rebuke such cheekiness, Amalie laughed and said, “You are indeed, Sym, and always will be. This is Sym Elliot,” she added with a brief, cool look at Garth.
“Not Dod Elliot’s youngest brother! Why, the last time I saw you—”
“I grew o’ course, sir,” Sym said, straightening as if he might grow more if he stretched. “I’ll no be as big as Tam, but I mean to grow bigger than Dod.”
There was enough meaning in the words to make Garth smile again. As a bairn, the lad had been a sore burden to his much older brother, who had served as captain of the guard at Raven’s Law, Wat Scott’s beloved peel tower, and now served in the same capacity at Scott’s Hall. Garth could recall more than once when Dod Elliot’s displeasure had resulted in a few painful moments for young Sym.
Wat had told him about other misadventures of Sym’s, many of which stemmed from the lad’s unfortunate and too-frequent habit of following Dod and Dod’s reiving friends whenever they had indulged in the common Border practice of raiding other men’s cattle, both English and Scot.
Sym had followed them even when Wat had led them, one such time having been the raid that resulted in Wat’s meeting and marrying his lady wife.
This stream of thought flashed through Garth’s mind in seconds before Tam stopped it by saying quietly, “We’ve brought word from Threave, my l—”
“Both of you rode to Threave?” Garth interjected quickly.
“Aye, for Himself thought it would be good experience for the lad.”
As Garth hid a smile at hearing his volatile cousin called simply “Himself,” Sym said, “It was good experience, aye. But I ought to ha’ stayed wi’ me lady till she births her wee bairn. I swore to serve her all her days, ye ken.”
“Her ladyship will do her birthing better without such a queesitive gudget at her door, asking every five minutes can he do summat for her,” Tam said.
“Well, I ken a good bit about such,” Sym said, glancing at Amalie.
“Take yourself off to see to our horses now and leave the conversin’ to your betters,” Tam said in a tone that brooked no argument.
“Aye, sure, I’ll go,” Sym said, giving him a look that seemed to Garth to be half remorseful, half challenging. Then the lad turned back with a flashing grin and a bow to say to Amalie, “It be good to see ye again, me lady.”
“You, too, Sym,” she said with a smile. “So Meg has not yet had her baby?”
“Not yet,” Tam said, adding sternly, “Away wi’ ye now, lad.”
Sym went, and watching him, Garth said, “What did Douglas say, Tam?”
Tam looked around, but although Boyd stood in the doorway of the dormer, no one was near enough to hear them talk. When Tam still hesitated, Amalie said pointedly, “Should I leave, Tam, so you can continue your discussion privately?”
He looked at Garth.
Amused but wishing she would not continue to display her annoyance with him so blatantly, Garth said, “If you would, my lady. Tell the princess we’ll have two guests overnight, but assure her they’ll sleep in the dormer—the lad, at least.”
“We both will, aye,” Tam said. “I’d liefer stay with the lad, sir.”
“I hope I’ll see you again before you depart, Tammy,” Amalie said. Then, without another word to Garth, she turned and walked back to the garden gate.
He watched her until Tam said, “I dinna think she’ll hear us now, sir.”
“No,” Garth said with a sigh as he turned back to find the larger man regarding him with a quizzical smile. “What are you grinning about?”
“The lady Amalie vexes easy,” Tam said. “I do recall that about her.”
“Do you, indeed?” Garth said.
“Aye, and it be nae use to take that tone wi’ me, my lord. I’m no the one lookin’ at ye as if ye were dust under me feet. D’ye ken how ye came to vex her?”
“I do, but I do not propose to share that with you, nor do I want to hear any more ‘my lords’ from you whilst you are here.”
“Sakes, does her ladyship no ken who ye are?”
“She should if she’s given it any thought, because she knows I swore fealty with the other barons at Scone. But I believe she thinks of me only as Sir Garth Napier, cousin to Buccleuch. I’d as lief not mention Westruther here, in any event.”
“A baron actin’ as servin’ knight to the princess be bound to cause talk, aye.”
“It would, and Isabel agrees,” Garth said. “But I mean to find out who killed Will if I can, and James, too. Archie sent me here, thinking I might learn more from Isabel. I’m beginning to think I may learn more from Sir Harald Boyd instead.”
“Who is he?”
“The chap who was just watching us from the dormer threshold,” Garth said.
“D’ye think he killed them?”
“Sir John Edmonstone sent him, so I doubt it,” Garth said. “Still, he is Fife’s man, so likely Fife arranged for him to spy on Isabel, and mayhap to achieve a second purpose, as well.” He did not explain about Amalie, nor did Tam ask.
Instead, Tam said, “Did ye no say Will’s man told ye he’d seen this Haldane at Edmonstone, too, but that none there had heard o’ the man?”
“I did, but I’ve discovered no other sign of him. He may be dead, come to that, so I’m watching Boyd. What better way for Fife to know what Isabel is up to than for him to send a man to join her household, just as I did?”
Tam frowned. “If ye’re thinkin’ this Boyd be Fife’s man, why not have a talk with him—a persuasive talk, as ye might say?”
“Because knowing I can’t trust him gives me an edge only until I challenge him. I can always have that talk if I need to, though. Now, what did Archie say?”
“He’s that pleased that ye sent us and gey wroth wi’ Fife,” Tam said. “It be just as ye expected, sir. The Douglas’s men in Stirling and at Scone told him Fife were ridin’ to Lauder. But, sithee, there were nowt in that to unsettle him, Lauder being Fife’s to control and none so far from Edinburgh.”
“What does Archie mean to do?” Garth asked.
“He’ll be on his way from Threave now, sir. He said ye’re to meet him at Hawick midday on Tuesday. If Fife leaves Lauder meantime, the Douglas’ll expect ye to ken where he’s gone. Sym and I stopped at the Hall, too, long enough to glean news of our lady and to send a pair of lads on to Lauder to keep watch.”
“Good, but they’d better be sharp lads,” Garth said. “I’ll not be pleased if they lose track of Fife or if he catches them at it and questions them.”
“They’d no be pleased to be questioned, either,” Tam said. “I told them to come to Sweethope Hill if they had aught to tell me, so if the Governor does catch them, they ken only that they serve Himself. I also told them that if anyone should ask, they must say they’d had a message for Westruther about the new bairn and were just ridin’ on to Edinburgh with another for the laird’s brother there.”
Garth nodded. “That should keep them safe enough, I agree,” he said. “Do you mean to stay and ride to Hawick with me?”
“Aye, sir,” Tam said. “Himself said I should, and also to take the Douglas back to the Hall if Fife hasna left Lauder. But Douglas may just go on to Hermitage.”
“If Fife hasn’t left yet, Archie will go straight to Lauder,” Garth predicted.
Amalie’s curiosity was threatening to drive her daft. Having believed Tammy and Sym had come to tell her Meg had had her child, only to learn that they had come to see Garth, she felt cheated. Tammy and Sym were her friends.
More than that, Tam knew her deepest secret, one she had shared with no one who had not been there. But one of the few others who knew was Sym Elliot. Young Sym would never betray her on purpose, any more than T
am would, but as honest, direct, and guileless as Sym was, he had already nearly let something slip.
Just thinking about that, recalling how Tam had sent him away so abruptly, she wondered if Tammy would feel obliged to tell Garth.
Then she felt guilty, because Tam had been a particularly good friend to her. She could not believe he would betray her under any circumstances.
But what if Garth ordered him to tell him all he knew about her? Garth was a knight of the realm, a man other men respected for that fact alone.
Would Tammy lie to him, swear he knew no more of her than Garth did?
Deciding she could not be alone with Garth again until she could be sure her own behavior would not betray her, she avoided his gaze at supper, and avoided him altogether afterward by sitting with Sibylla and engaging her in conversation.
The result of that was that Sibylla walked upstairs with her and straight into her bedchamber without so much as an invitation. At least Bess was also there.
“You may go, Bess,” Sibylla said, holding the door open. “I will assist your mistress if she requires assistance.”
Bess looked at Amalie, who reluctantly nodded.
Sibylla smiled in her friendly way as she shut the door behind Bess. “Don’t look so wary, my dear. What you do is no business of mine, nor is it my duty to scold you. But I thought you should know that I did hear your voice when I tried that door this afternoon. I assume Sir Garth is the man who was with you. I heard him say only the one word, ‘Wait,’ so I cannot be sure.”
Although her cheeks flamed, Amalie lifted her chin, fully intending to say she had no idea what Sibylla was talking about. But as she met her steady gaze, she found herself saying instead, “Aye, it was. Are you going to tell Lady Averil?”
“I’ve already said that is not my business,” Sibylla reminded her. “Had it been Sir Harald, I’d strongly advise you to keep away from him, but Sir Garth will not harm you.”
Amalie almost contradicted her but held her tongue. Sibylla knew too much as it was. Instead, she said, “Sir Garth had seen Sir Harald accost me in the garden earlier. You need have no fear that I shall have aught to do with that man. My parents want me to marry him, but I do not like him, Sibylla.”