Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy 2]

by Border Moonlight

  Simon had said nothing about anyone else going with them to Elishaw. So, it was likely that Lady Murray and

  Sir Malcolm would be staying in Edinburgh with Rosalie and Alice. Either of the latter two might repeat what she heard here. Indeed, Alice would likely share all she knew with George Denholm.

  The general conversation had turned to Catherine Gordon, eliciting heated opinions of the uneven match with Thomas until Meg said, “Sibylla, I’ve ordered a hot bath for you, so you may come with me and we’ll leave the men to talk. And you, sir,” she said sternly to her husband, “will send her husband up soon as well.”

  “I will, aye,” Buccleuch said. He smacked her backside as she passed, adding with a grin, “Recall that I am your lord and master, lass, and behave accordingly.”

  She put her chin in the air. “Aye, my lord, when I choose.”

  Sym Elliot, appearing at her side, said, “All’s prepared above, mistress. I’ll tell them now in the kitchen to be sending the hot water up straightaway.”

  He hurried away, intent on his mission.

  “We’re coming, too, Meg,” Amalie said, getting up. “You don’t mind if all your sisters help you prepare for your wedding night, do you, Sibylla?”

  “Nay, just promise me that Sym does not mean to oversee it all,” Sibylla said, smiling. As the others burst into appreciative laughter, she turned to Lady Murray and said, “I hope you mean to come, too, madam.”

  Color tinged Lady Murray’s cheeks as she said, “I will certainly come if you’d like me to, my dear. It is kind of you to include me.”

  Sibylla saw Amalie exchange an astonished look with Meg, but neither said a word. With the younger two chattering as they went up, the others held their peace.

  In the tidy bedchamber to which Meg led them, a fire burned on the hearth with a large, empty tub sitting before it. A tall wooden screen stood at one side.

  “This is our chamber,” Meg said. “But it will afford you warmth for your bath and some privacy. The chamber you are to share with Simon lacks a fire, but we’ll put you to bed after your bath. So he can bathe in here, too, if he likes.”

  The hot water soon came, and to Sibylla’s relief, Sym bowed and left.

  Arranging the screen around the tub, Amalie said, “We were all going to ride with you tomorrow, because Garth and Wat are going to Hermitage to join Archie if he is still there, or ride on after him to Threave if he has gone. We’ll ride as far as Hawick with them, and then I mean to ride to Scott’s Hall with Meg for a visit with her bairns. But I expect you won’t be going with us if Simon has to go to Huntly.”

  “You are welcome to stay here, Sibylla,” Meg said as she undid the back lacing of Sibylla’s tunic while Sibylla deftly twisted her hair into a topknot. “Wat’s brother is away and no one else will be using it for a month or so.”

  Sibylla thanked her but said, “I have no clothes with me. I’ve been wearing old ones and borrowing things the other ladies left in Isabel’s chambers.”

  “Aye, well, you have your own clothing now, my dear,” Meg said with a chuckle as she swept a familiar yellow woolen robe up off the bed and waved it at Sibylla. Your husband arranged to intercept a big bundle of your things from Sweethope Hill yesterday afternoon and had it delivered here to us.”

  “Sakes, I’ve been watching for that carter every day,” Sibylla said. “But I never spared a thought for him today— not until I found myself in the chapel.”

  Lady Murray said, “It was clever of Simon to remember you had sent for clothing. Gentlemen frequently forget to concern themselves with such trifles.”

  Amalie chuckled. “Sakes, but Simon surprised us all. Who would ever have expected him to do such a mad thing as to abduct you, Sibylla? I did not believe it until I saw him carry you up the hill and into the chapel.”

  “Mercy, were you all standing there watching?” Laughing, they nodded. When Sibylla was nearly ready to get into the tub, Lady Murray suggested that someone make sure all was ready in the other chamber.

  Meg smiled at her and said, “To be sure, you have not seen yet where they are to sleep. Come, and I’ll show you. Amalie will stay to help Sibylla, and mayhap if we take these two chatterers with us, she can relax in her bath.”

  When they had gone, Sibylla seized the opportunity to say to Amalie, “I don’t mean to stay here if I can avoid it, and I suspect Simon won’t either, because we’ve something rather urgent to attend to at Elishaw.”

  “Sakes, but he’ll have to stay,” Amalie said, handing her the soap. “Fife said so. Besides, he’ll have to ride to Huntly soon. What can be so urgent at Elishaw?”

  “I should not say more without leave from him,” Sibylla said. “And, prithee, do not ask him. It is important, though. If he cannot go, then I must.”

  “Well, he won’t go, so I hope whatever it is can wait, because I doubt that Garth or Wat will let you ride by yourself from Hawick to Elishaw.” She grinned. “Any other time, I’d go with you, but I dare not whilst I’m with child. As it is, Garth tries to make me use a horse litter now when we travel, but I won’t do it.”

  “Tell me something, Amalie. Have you ever known your brother not to keep his word once he’s given it—if it is in his power to do so?”

  “No, but even if he gave it, he did not do so after Fife gave his order, so . . .” She ended with a shrug, and Sibylla, afraid she might be right, said no more.

  The others soon returned, and she let them wrap her in her yellow robe and brush her hair while she dabbed on some scent. When they escorted her to the other chamber, she let them tuck her into bed. Then she begged them to leave.

  “I love you all, and I hope you will forgive me,” she said warmly, looking from one smiling, sisterly face to another and then to the more sober one of Lady Murray. “I shudder at the thought of so public a bedding.”

  Her three good-sisters and Alice agreed, laughing as they went and threatening to demand every detail on the morrow. When Lady Murray had shepherded them out, she shut the door and turned back to Sibylla.

  “Do not fear that I mean to stay, my dear, for I shan’t. I did want to tell you, though, that I believe you will suit our Simon very well as his wife.”

  Startled but grateful, Sibylla said, “Then you cannot be the reason my father told me my marriage was putting a hitch in his rope. As you had said you would not stand in the way, I doubted that was it, but I knew not what else it could be. I trust you will not think me impertinent if I say I hope he can make all smooth again.”

  “Dear me,” Lady Murray said, turning pink again. “ ’Twould be dishonest to deny that we have formed a tenderness for each other, my dear Sibylla. But with you and Simon marrying, Sir Malcolm becomes, by law, Simon’s father, and I your mother. So he fears that we have fallen into a prohibited degree of kinship. I am not so certain, but he will look into it. I believe he meant to ask the bishop tonight had Fife not taken the man away so quickly.”

  “What if my father is right?” Sibylla asked, easily able to picture them married. They would complement each other well, because he was a good landsman and she would revel in managing the household at Elishaw and looking after him.

  “He will seek papal dispensation, I warrant,” Lady Murray said. “It is so often necessary these days in any event.”

  “What caused that dispute, my lady?” Sibylla asked. “Will you tell me?”

  Color suffused the older woman’s cheeks, but she squared her shoulders and said, “It was little more than what happened between you and Simon, my dear, with one trifling difference. We were both married, you see, and my husband walked in.”

  “Mercy!”

  “Just so. Iagan was livid, and . . . and when Malcolm tried to take the blame and said he was just stealing a kiss, Iagan knocked him down. He would not hear Malcolm’s name mentioned, and I’m afraid that over time, I accepted Iagan’s belief that it was Malcolm’s fault. Then he walked into the hall at Elishaw and I was . . . But I am talking too much now and should bid y
ou goodnight, my dear. I just wanted to tell you that I approve of this match. You make Simon so much happier.”

  Without awaiting a response, she left the room.

  Sibylla lay back against the pillows and tried to imagine her father kissing another man’s wife, or Lady Murray another woman’s husband, only to startle awake at the click of the latch and a chuckle that sounded like Garth Napier’s.

  A moment later the latch clicked again, and then there was silence.

  She opened her eyes and saw Simon, wearing only a pair of breeks, his tawny hair curling damply, the muscles of his powerful torso clearly etched in the glowing candlelight. Her heart pounded, and nerves and other parts of her body that usually did not disturb her came eagerly to life.

  When Simon entered, he thought she was asleep and stood still for a long moment, gazing at her. One naked arm lay atop the coverlet, which had slipped low enough to reveal her smooth shoulders and the soft swell of her fine breasts.

  Her skin looked golden. The candles on the stand by the bed had turned it so and had set highlights dancing in her hair. She had left its long tresses unplaited, which he thought a more encouraging sign than her silence earlier.

  The room was plain but tidy. The bed looked large enough for comfort and sturdy enough to accommodate a lustful couple. His lips curved at the thought, just as she opened her eyes and looked at him.

  He could not read her expression, but he thought she colored a little as she said, “I think I must have fallen asleep.”

  “I hope you don’t want to go back to sleep,” he said. “Nay,” she said, sitting higher on the pillows and tugging the coverlet up over her breasts. “I want to talk.”

  “I know you do, lass. About what Fife said—”

  “Simon, has it occurred to you that his behavior was most unusual? Recall that soon after Thomas walked in on us he was sitting next to Fife in the hall.”

  “Aye, he was, and I’ve no doubt he told Fife what he had seen, and little doubt that he exaggerated it all to put me in the wrong.”

  “Or mayhap to twist the truth because Fife told him that a stolen kiss would not be reason enough for us to feel obliged to marry,” she said.

  “Look here, lass, I ken fine what you think about Fife, but I swear to you, I offered to—nay, I arranged for us to marry because I wanted to marry you.”

  “Duty, sir?”

  “No,” he said savagely. “Not duty!”

  “Your lady mother said you knew your duty.”

  “Did she?” He dashed a hand through his still-damp hair and pressed his lips together, struggling to reclaim his calm. But he wanted to throw something or shake someone—his mother. He glanced away but forced himself to look back at Sibylla.

  She was eyeing him expectantly, her soft lips parted. “Lass . . . Sibylla, I don’t know what I can say to persuade you that Fife had nowt to do with my decision, or with my wanting you.”

  “I know,” she said softly.

  “But how can you know? His very words to me earlier tonight had to sound as if we had conspired together to bring about that wedding.”

  “It did sound exactly so,” she said. “But does it not occur to you that such clumsy behavior is not at all like Fife?”

  Simon relaxed. He had expected to have to persuade her of that himself and had feared she would be in no mood to listen. “We’re going to Elishaw,” he said.

  Still in that soft voice, she said, “I told Amalie we would go with them.”

  “Sakes, you are a witch.”

  “Nay, but I have lived for years in the shadow of Fife, sir. Men have called him coward, but none has suggested he is inept. Our unloved Governor is shrewd and subtle in his acts. He would not behave as he did tonight without purpose, so we must ask ourselves what that purpose is.”

  “We can talk about it later,” he suggested.

  But she went on. “He ordered you here to Edinburgh, away from Elishaw. What reason did he offer for that, and what reason to send you farther away now?”

  “I agree that we should discuss all that, lass, but I do not understand how, from such thoughts, you deduced that we would ride to Elishaw with the others.”

  “ ’Tis simple, sir. You promised me we would go to Elishaw, and I believe you are a man of your word. It will have to be a quick trip—for you, at least—because you will still have to ride to Huntly. Fife is too dangerous to defy outright.”

  “We’ll see,” he said, smiling. “But for the moment—” “Wait,” she said.

  “I don’t want to wait.”

  Sibylla wanted to know more but wondered if it was worth it to press him more on their wedding night. In truth, with him standing there looking as he did, she was finding it harder than usual to think. She did not want to anger him.

  They could fight later if necessary. For now, she wanted him to come closer.

  He said gently, “Even Fife will not cavil if I explain later that I wanted to get you away from those lying rumors. I’m hoping we can reach Elishaw in just over a day as we need not concern ourselves with my lady mother’s notions of travel.”

  “Mercy, ’tis more than thirty miles, is it not? And what of Amalie?”

  “Garth will see to her. She takes too many risks, he says, but he can handle her easily when he must. And we’ve decided to take the main roads, because we can cover the distance faster and change horses more easily. So it will be longer but quicker.”

  She had not thought of changing horses. Isabel traveled fast, but her men-at-arms led a string of extra mounts in case someone’s horse injured itself. The ladies rarely needed an extra one. But they rarely traveled even twenty miles in a day.

  “I do see that you might ride to Elishaw and back in four days’ time, sir, but do you mean you may not go to Huntly at all?”

  “If you are right and Kit is Catherine, that question will be moot, will it not?”

  “Aye, but you do not believe she is.”

  “I think she may have information that can help us find Catherine. Even ruling out that possibility will help. In any event, I can send word to Oxnam, so the Colvilles can go to Huntly if need be, and I’ll tell Fife the activities of the raiders keep me at Elishaw. In troth, lass, he cannot expect me to continue much longer in his service now that I am responsible for a border stronghold.”

  She had no idea what Fife expected of him, but she knew enough to be sure the Governor had some plot in mind. Simon had twice rubbed his bare arms, though, and with a damp head and no shirt, she knew he must be getting cold.

  “You should come to bed, sir. We can talk more tomorrow as we ride.”

  “Aye, sure we can, lass, but I cannot trust myself to touch you until I can be sure we have talked enough to ease your mind. This marriage has been gey sudden, and you were sorely vexed with me.”

  “I was furious,” she said. “But I agreed to this marriage, and if I must ride all day tomorrow, I need to sleep.” Trying to sound casual and not shy about the duty that lay before her, she said, “I warrant you have another activity in mind, though.”

  “I do, aye,” he agreed. He took a step nearer before pausing to say, “Art sure of this, Sibylla?”

  Relaxing, she drew back the covers and scooted over to make room, saying, “Am I to understand you will now submit to my wishes, sir?”

  “You may hope,” he said, unfastening his breeks and letting them fall.

  She stared. He was certainly ready for her.

  Simon heard her gasp and saw her eyes widen. In the candles’ glow, her huge pupils made them look black. But black or their usual silver, they were like glass, and he could see the nearest candle flame reflected in them.

  Her beauty stunned him as it always did, and the anticipation of touching her stirred his cock again as strongly as it had when she had told him to come to bed.

  Without hesitation, he got in and shifted himself to look down at her as he shoved the covers away, baring her splendid body so he could gaze on it as he once had by moonlight. Agai
n the primeval urge that had nearly overcome him the first time he had touched her sprang to life, and before she could draw her next breath, he had her in his arms and his mouth had claimed hers.

  When she moved against him, his tongue swiftly penetrated the soft inner recesses of her mouth. He stroked her body, savoring its smoothness as he continued kissing her. His left palm cupped a breast, finding it firm and just the right size. Fingering its erect nipple, he heard her moan, and her hips moved toward him.

  His urges increased, shouting at him to take her. But he restrained himself, recalling her maidenhood, and shifted his lips to the nipple, suckling gently. She squirmed, and he relished her soft gasps and mews.

  He had expected maidenly resistance, but she displayed none. And although she had yet to learn how to please him, he could wait for that. Pausing sometime later, he raised his head and saw that although her lips had parted, her eyes had shut.

  “A good wife does not fall asleep too soon on her wedding night,” he murmured provocatively.

  Her mouth quirked into a smile. “Don’t stop,” she murmured. “I had no notion that a man could make a woman feel like this.”

  “Dearling lassie, I can make you feel much more. For example . . .”

  Sibylla sighed as his lips moved from one breast to the other and back again, gently nibbling and sucking. Then his hot breath warmed a nipple, his wet tongue laved it, and she stopped breathing to savor the sensations sweeping through her.

  She paid vague heed to his hands as his tongue stroked her eager flesh.

  Her hands caressed and explored him everywhere she could reach. She had known his body was hard and muscular, but she had not known his skin could feel soft and smooth, that his stomach would feel rock hard, that he would have so much hair, or that the hair on his chest would feel so soft and springy.

  His lips and tongue brushed across her belly, making her gasp again and wonder how it would taste to do such a thing to him.

  Her fingers laced themselves in his hair as if they thought they could stop him doing aught she did not like. A bubble of laughter rose in her at the thought. She doubted he would do anything to which she or her body would object.