Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy Two 02]

by Border Lass

  Tom had a pleasant voice and was an exceptionally skilled musician. But Garth noted that Amalie looked lost in her own thoughts. Then, abruptly, she stood and walked to the rear of the hall and into the anteroom.

  Garth saw Sibylla exchange a look with Isabel and start to get up. But Isabel gave a slight shake of her head and, surprisingly, shifted her gaze to Garth.

  When she beckoned, he went quickly. “You have a task for me, madam?”

  “The lady Amalie may have gone into the garden again,” Isabel said. “I do not mind if she chooses to stay away from everyone for a time. But pray, sir, see that the gate is bolted and that she is safe. I do not know Thomas Murray’s men.”

  “Do you want me just to attend to the bolt, Princess?” he asked bluntly.

  “I believe you can look after whatever needs looking after, sir, and without distressing her further. That is what I want you to do. Sir Iagan’s death has greatly distressed her. To be sure, she may have gone upstairs and not into the garden at all. But if she had, I think she would have gone out the other way to the front stairway.”

  “I agree, madam. I’ll see that she is safe.”

  “I know you will.” Then, with a sigh, she said, “He plays well, does he not?”

  Garth shot a glance at Murray. “Tolerably well, I suppose.”

  “Sir Harald seems most entertained.”

  “We must hope he remains so,” Garth said, hoping instead that Boyd would follow him into the garden and give him an excuse to teach him his manners.

  From where she stood in the garden’s open gateway, despite the rapidly dimming twilight, Amalie saw Garth step out onto the rear steps of the house.

  The sun set earlier each night, and when she had come out, she’d opened the gate to watch it. The view then had been astonishing, for in a streak of still-blue sky between the western hilltops and a patchwork above them of peach, rose, and violet clouds, the sun had nearly disappeared below the horizon. She had seen at once that the narrow crescent moon, just south of it, would set minutes afterward.

  The stableyard was empty, and the moon’s tip still peeped above the hilltops now hiding the sun. The colors in the clouds were fading fast, and she wished Garth had come out sooner to share the sunset’s full beauty with her.

  He was striding toward her now, and when he was near enough, he said, “What are you doing there, lass? That gate should be bolted by now.”

  “Come, look,” she said. “The sun and moon are setting at almost the exact same time. The moon has been up all day, too, of course, but is it not unusual for them both to go down at once?”

  In her experience, men who had begun scolding rarely stopped just because one wanted to direct their attention elsewhere. So she was pleasantly surprised when he looked at the still-visible moon, smiled, and said, “I don’t know how unusual it may be. But I own, I have never seen it happen before.”

  “Mayhap it is an omen of good fortune,” she said. “I must ask Sibylla. She knows all about such things.”

  “Does she?” His voice sounded deeper than usual.

  An odd, tingling sensation streaked through her, making her look up at him.

  He was watching her, and when her gaze met his, his eyes narrowed.

  “Why do you look at me like that?” she asked.

  “I was trying to tell if you were still sad.”

  “Doubtless, I shall be sad for a long time,” she said. “I have not lost anyone close to me before, you see. It is the shock of it, I think. So sudden, and he was kind to me when last we spoke. He promised he would honor my decision not to marry. I did not believe him, because my mother and Simon would soon have persuaded him otherwise. But it was kind of him, don’t you agree?”

  “I do,” he said, but a different note in his voice told her he was uncertain whether he did or not. She decided not to press him to be more forthcoming.

  “With no moonlight, we’ll soon not be able to see where we’re going,” he said. But he shut the gate and shut out most of the ambient light with it.

  “I don’t mind,” she said. “I know the paths well. Did Isabel send you to fetch me? I’d have expected her to send Sibylla or Susan, or even Tom.”

  “Tom is still playing his lute. Isabel sent me to be sure the gate was bolted.”

  “Oh.”

  He stood close to her, close enough for her to smell the leathery scent of the jack he still wore over a soft white shirt.

  She fell silent, and he stayed quiet, too, until she looked up at him again. “That’s better,” he said. “There will be starlight, despite those clouds yonder.”

  Chuckling at his hopeful tone, she said, “Are you suggesting that we should stay here until there are enough stars out to light our way?”

  “I was just thinking that your eyes would reflect starlight even better than moonlight,” he said.

  “Faith, you are flirting with me! Do you say such stuff to every woman?”

  “I never say such stuff to anyone,” he said firmly.

  “My dear sir, I had been coming to believe that perhaps you never do tell lies, but if that is not a huge—”

  “I did not say I never flirt,” he protested. “I said I never say such claptrap as that. I swear I’ve never made such a daft statement to any lass before. But when you asked if I was suggesting we stay out here, the thought came into my head and I said it before I thought. By my troth, lass, I did not mean to flirt, not now.”

  “You always do seem to say whatever you think to me,” she said, recalling one or two times when he had irked her by doing just that. Tonight it did not irk her at all. Until he had stepped out into the garden she had been feeling chilly, both inside and outside. Since then, she had warmed up considerably.

  “If I were to say what I’m thinking right now, I’d ask to kiss you again,” he said. “But, as you are grieving so much tonight, it would be daft—”

  “The last time you asked me, I kissed you first,” she said, wondering at her own daring. “This time you will have to decide for yourself.”

  Without hesitation, he put an arm around her shoulders, tilted her face up with his free hand, and claimed her lips with his own in a warm, moist kiss.

  The sensations that enveloped her body were different from before, more encompassing, and they spread warmth all through her. She pressed harder against him, feeling the length of him, and feeling him stir against her.

  Even then, she did not want to stop.

  Nor did he, for he pressed his tongue against her lips, slipping it between them when they parted. It felt as if it belonged there. His taste was pleasant, and the sensations he stirred awoke a yearning in her that she had not known before.

  She pressed her tongue against his, to see what he would do.

  His right hand moved up her side to the softness of her breast. He held his hand still there, and her breath stopped as she waited expectantly for what he would do next. He kept kissing her, gently, leaving his hand where it was.

  Then he straightened with a rueful smile.

  “Why did you stop?” she asked, fighting her disappointment.

  “Because we should go in, lass,” he said gently. “It is too dark out here, and the things I’m tempted to do are too tempting. Also, you are too vulnerable right now, and therefore won’t defend yourself well, I fear. We dare not stay longer.”

  She was reluctant to agree, so she said nothing but let him take her back inside. When they reached the anteroom, he gave her a little push and said, “You go on in by yourself. I don’t want to have to explain myself to your brother.”

  Amalie shook her head at him but obeyed. A short time later, when Isabel recommended an early night, she agreed at once.

  Garth did not sleep well that night. His dreams were full of spiderwebs again, tightening to ropes, as if every facet of his life were entangled. He awoke the next morning in a cold sweat again, certain the things he had imagined doing with the lass before he slept were haunting him, warning him of the snares that
awaited men with such thoughts about a noble maiden. If he did not take great care . . .

  To force the unwelcome thoughts from his head, he got up, broke his fast, and went to see what remained to do to ensure that all went smoothly during an absence the length of which he could not yet know. He reached the stableyard to find Tom Murray ready to depart with his men.

  When Tom greeted him, Garth said, “You’re off to the Hall, then.”

  “Aye, but I’m thinking I’ll send two of my lads back to Elishaw to warn them that I’ll be bringing my mother and sister home with me. The place looks as bad as any place would with none but men living in it for weeks, and in troth, I never thought about going on to the Hall. I just knew I had to tell Simon about my father’s death. I expect I thought he’d deal with all else that needed doing. I warrant my mother won’t think much of having just three of us to escort her, though.”

  “Speak to Buccleuch,” Garth recommended. “He’ll not let her return to Elishaw without an adequate escort.” Seeing Tammy stroll out of the stable, he motioned him over. “This is Tam Scott, captain of Buccleuch’s fighting tail. Tam, I’ve been telling Murray that Buccleuch will be happy to provide a proper escort for Lady Murray and her daughter on their return to Elishaw.”

  “Aye, sure,” Tam said. “Ye’ve nowt to worry ye there, sir. We’ll be headin’ out in a few hours ourselves, bound for Hawick and the Hall, if ye’d like to wait.”

  “Nay, for my lady mother will be wroth enough with me that I went to break the news to my older brother before telling her,” Tom said with a rueful look. “The sooner I get to her, the less likely it is that she’ll toss my head in my lap.”

  Tammy looked quizzically at Garth.

  “No,” he said, understanding that Tammy was offering to ride with Tom. “I want you with me, because I may need you.”

  When Tom had departed, Tammy said, “D’ye foresee trouble ahead, sir?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Garth said. He could hardly admit to Tam that he did not like Amalie’s riding alone to Elishaw with her brother Simon but had not yet thought of any way to prevent it.

  The likelihood was great that Simon would take the opportunity, grief or no grief, to press the marriage to Boyd. But it was certainly Simon’s right—and duty, now that he was Murray of Elishaw—to arrange his sister’s marriage.

  Garth told himself that it was no affair of his. He could not imagine why it should disturb him so much that a young noblewoman of good family remained stubbornly opposed to doing as her family bade her. Obeying them was her duty.

  Recalling his dream, he shook his head at himself. Even forewarned of entanglements, he seemed unable to resist poking his nose into her business.

  In the hall, the ladies were breaking their fast when Isabel said, “As your brother Simon means to escort you home to Elishaw for Sir Iagan’s burial, Amalie, you will want to take Bess with you. Mayhap one of the other ladies would like to accompany you, as well—Susan, perhaps, or Sibylla.”

  Sibylla was not there, and Susan looked rebellious, so Amalie said, “Bess will be sufficient, madam. Indeed, I do not know if Simon would . . .”

  She hesitated, not wanting to say that Simon might forbid her to take anyone else along, although that was perfectly true.

  The question proved moot, though, because when Simon Murray finally arrived that afternoon, he did not come alone. The Governor of the Realm and a large body of men-at-arms accompanied him.

  Chapter 15

  After the long day of waiting in vain for Simon’s arrival, Amalie and the other ladies had just taken their places on the hall dais for an early supper when a gillie had come running to tell the princess that a large party of men flying the royal Stewart banner were riding up the track.

  Isabel had grimaced but said only to let the kitchen know she would have guests for supper, and to tell her housekeeper to prepare rooms in the north wing for the Governor and for any others in his company who might expect proper beds.

  “Tell her not to concern herself if there are not enough beds, and by no means to give anyone Sir Garth’s chamber,” she said. “If there is not enough room, they will just have to make do. We can put some here in the hall if we must.”

  Lady Averil stood, saying, “You will want to change your gown, madam, before you sup with the lord Governor.”

  “Sit down, Averil,” Isabel said. “If Fife had not the common civility to send ahead to warn me of his coming, he can expect no extraordinary welcome.”

  “What can he want here?” Amalie asked, remembering that Tom had said Fife was even more determined to see her wedded to Sir Harald than Simon was.

  “I do not know,” Isabel said. “But I warrant we will find out soon enough.”

  Garth saw the riders approaching, and he, too, recognized the royal Stewart banner. He, Tam, and young Sym were harnessing a sumpter pony with two large baskets that contained items he would need when he rode with the Douglas.

  He had put off their departure as long as he could, and he sensed Tam’s impatience to be gone. As it was, they were leaving later than he had intended.

  Watching the host of riders fill the tracks to the house and stableyard, he said quietly, “Your lads at Lauder appear to have failed us, Tam.”

  “They’ll be keepin’ well out o’ sight is all,” Tam said. “The Governor must have made his decision gey quick to come here, or me lads would have noted all his preparations and one would have come to tell us. The lack o’ such news tells me it happened on a hop. I do recognize the man with Fife, though, sir.”

  “Simon Murray,” Garth said, nodding.

  “The lady Amalie’s other brother,” Sym put in helpfully.

  “Aye,” Tam said. “If Fife be travelin’ with Simon, he must mean to go on to Elishaw with him. Likely, we can tell the Douglas as much. Ye can see that these horses comin’ into the yard now all be lathered. Sithee, they’ve pushed them hard.”

  “A strange way to begin a royal progress through the Borders,” Garth said.

  “Aye, ye’d think he’d have begun farther east anyway if he meant to keep the Douglas from learnin’ of it. Elishaw be close to Hermitage, and for all that Fife calls himself Chief Warden o’ the Borders, Hermitage and all be Douglas country.”

  “So is the rest of the Borders, to hear Archie talk,” Garth said dryly.

  Sym said, “Aye, sure, and most folks do agree with him, too.”

  “We’d like your silence more than your conversation, lad,” Tam said.

  “Nay, let him have his say,” Garth said. “His views on the current state of the realm could be enlightening.”

  “Now, sir, ye’ll no be wantin’ to be encourag—”

  “What does ‘enlightening’ mean?” Sym demanded suspiciously.

  “It means clarifying, shedding light on, that sort of thing,” Garth said, his attention focused more on the milling horsemen than on Sym. “Put plainly, it means we might learn something by listening to you.”

  “Ye might, aye. I ken that villain well enough, any road.”

  “Which villain is that?”

  “Yon Fife is which,” Sym said darkly. “He were at Hermitage two years ago. I were nobbut a bairn then, mind ye, but I ken him fine. He’s no to be trusted, sir, nor the other brother, neither—that Tom one as left early this morning.”

  “I believe you,” Garth said, wishing he could stay long enough to learn what was going on inside. But Archie would expect them to reach Hawick by midday, and Hawick was twenty miles away. Moreover, they had packed food to eat on the way.

  To tell the others he had decided to go inside and eat his supper with the princess and her guests would be neither a popular move nor wise in itself.

  As matters stood, they would have to push their horses to make Dryburgh before dusk, and there would be no moon again that night. It hovered now just above the western horizon and would vanish within the hour.

  One other detail deterred him from entering the hall.

  A
malie was evidently not yet fully aware of his true rank, and he thought it might be better if Fife were not the one to remind her that he was also a baron. Fife would remember him though, and he would address him as Westruther.

  It had seemed more comfortable and perfectly logical to ignore his new title after his father died. It was easier, too, to go on being Sir Garth Napier as he looked into details of Will Douglas’s death and after he came to Sweethope Hill.

  Knighthoods, which one acquired only through rugged training and at the risk of one’s hide, if not one’s very life, drew more respect than baronies, which descended to one by birth. For that reason, knighted landowners often preferred the knightly form of address and used the barony title alone only if the barony was of considerable importance. Some men, however, did not do so even then.

  Sir Iagan, although baron of Elishaw, still used his. Buccleuch did not.

  Garth had to admit, though, if only to himself, that he had chosen to remain Sir Garth Napier not only out of knightly pride but also because Lord Westruther would draw too much notice at Sweethope Hill.

  Until Tam had asked him why Amalie did not know his full identity, Garth had not considered what he was doing as any form of deception, only as simplifying his life.

  He had not denied who he was. He had just not shouted it from the treetops.

  But now he had to consider how she would perceive the matter.

  She was growing to trust him. He was as sure of that as he was that the sun would rise. She was no longer wary in his presence, and he wanted to encourage that. Also, she had let him kiss her, had even encouraged him—twice—to do so.

  And as dangerous as he knew it to be, he wanted to kiss her again.

  “Pull that strap tighter, Sym,” he said curtly. “We’ve two hours of riding ahead, and you won’t like repacking that basket after the pony shakes it off.”

  The lad obeyed without comment, and Garth had no further excuse to linger.

  “Look yonder, sir, to the south,” Tam said quietly.

  Garth followed the direction of the other man’s nod to see three horsemen approaching. “Now, who the devil— Oh, it’s Boyd, doubtless just in time for his supper, too. Where’s he been all day, I wonder.”