Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy 2]

by Border Moonlight

  Fife nodded and got to his feet. “The question of anyone going to Huntly becomes moot if Colville is not to marry Catherine. She will turn up somewhere, and I’ll deal with her and those concealing her when she does. Douglas, I have supped and you have not, so I suggest you stay to see to your hunger. But I would ask you to return to Edinburgh in a month’s time to discuss this plan of yours.”

  “Thank you,” Douglas said. “As you ken fine, Murray here is but two days married and doubtless finds us all in his way. I do mean to take my supper with him, which will give you time to get on your way. Then I’ll be leaving, too.”

  Chapter 22

  On the service stair landing, Sibylla heard sounds of Fife’s departure and waited to hear what the other men would say when he had gone. Beside her, Kit waited silently, her small hand clutching Sibylla’s.

  Having been unable to bear being blind and deaf to what was going on above, and hearing no one in the bake-house chamber, Sibylla had slipped out of the tunnel, and with the child as her shadow, had crept up to the landing.

  She knew it was likely that someone in the kitchen had seen them. But no one had called out to her and she had not looked to see if anyone was watching, suspecting that anyone who did see them would think she had simply used her rumored witch’s powers again to appear from the supposedly empty chamber.

  Again, the rumors could prove useful.

  When Fife ordered Simon to fetch Kit, the child had spun round to dash back down the stairs, and Sibylla nearly missed catching her. Having hoped that in moving so quickly she had not revealed their presence, it was annoying to hear Simon raise his voice to say, “He has gone, my lady. You may come in now.”

  Kit grabbed Sibylla’s skirt with both hands. Dampening suddenly dry lips, Sibylla bent close to her and said quietly, “We will go in together, love. Nay, do not speak. Just listen to me. The Douglas is here. He is the most powerful man in Scotland, and he will keep you safe. He is kin to me, and I promise he will let no one hurt you. I think I was wrong and you are not the lady Catherine, but I think you do know where she is and the time has come for you to tell us. The Douglas will keep her safe, too.”

  But when she straightened, Kit clung to her skirt, trying to hold her back.

  “Sibylla?” The warning note in Simon’s voice said his patience was waning.

  She said, “Kit, have I ever lied to you?”

  Looking at the floor, the child shook her head.

  “Then, come.” Sibylla held out her hand.

  Kit looked into her eyes then, and she gazed steadily back.

  At last, Kit took her hand and they stepped through the archway together. A gillie passed them and hurried down the steps toward the kitchen, doubtless to tell them to begin serving supper to the lairds on the dais. The lower hall was nearly silent. Few lingered there other than those clearing up or coming late to supper.

  The men at the high table stood, Garth and Buccleuch on the nearer side and Simon, Percy, and Douglas with their backs to the lower hall.

  Simon moved around the table toward Sibylla and Kit. “This is Kit, my lords,” Sibylla said, fixing her gaze on Douglas and thus avoiding Simon’s eye and the others’ as well. “She will talk with us, but I did promise her, my lord Douglas, that you will keep her safe.”

  “I will, aye,” Archie said, his harsh face softening. “Come to the table, lassie. You are not the lady Catherine, but I’m thinking you must look summat like her.”

  Holding tight to Sibylla’s hand, Kit went nearer, regarding Douglas solemnly as she said, “Why do you think I look like her, my lord?”

  “Because you are also gey fair, and the men who interfered with you the day you went into the river thought you were Catherine, did they not?”

  Squeezing Sibylla’s hand harder, she nodded. “They were bad men.”

  “They were, aye. Why did they accost you?”

  “Accost?”

  “Why did they stop you?” Sibylla said gently.

  “We had stopped already,” Kit said. “The river stopped me, and then Dand found me, and he were sore vexed and shouting, so the bad men found us both.”

  “Dand was not your brother then.”

  “Nay, there’s just me and me mam and . . .” She looked up at Sibylla.

  “And Catherine?” Sibylla said.

  “Aye, we’ve always been together till now. But Mam and Cat went across the river. Mam said the people seeking us looked for a woman wi’ two wee lassies, so I must stay with Dand and his kin. But I didna like it there, so I cut off my hair, put on some old breeks o’ Dand’s, and went to find me mam and Cat.”

  “So that’s why you were dressed as a lad,” Sibylla said.

  “Aye, but Dand found me by the river, and the bad men heard me shrieking and kent I was a lassie. They said they’d been seeking me and called me Catherine. I said my name wasn’t Catherine, and Dand said I was his sister. But one o’ the men knew Dand’s people and said he didna have a sister, that he’d never seen me before. They said either I was Catherine and me mam was near or I was the other one left behind, ’cause being Catherine’s nurse, Mam wouldna leave her for nowt.”

  Sibylla looked at Douglas, raising an eyebrow. When he nodded, she said, “Did they discover which it was, Kit?”

  “The one as threw Dand said she wouldna let Cat roam about as I had either.”

  “Why did he throw Dand in the water?”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “He believed me when I said I didna ken where they’d gone,” she said. “But he said Dand must know ’cause he was older, or his people did. So I screamed at them that Dand didna ken nowt, that me mam hadna told anyone where she went, so no bad people could find her. But they thought he must know, so the man wha’ did all the talking said he’d throw him in the river if he’d no tell them. But he knew nowt, so he could say nowt, and so they did.”

  “Dand told me you ran and jumped into the water on your own,” Simon said. “Did you think you could help him?”

  She looked down. “Nay, I just ran so they’d no catch me . . . and ’cause I wanted gey fierce to get across the river to Mam and Cat. But the water took me, and then the lady caught me and you brought us here, laird. Then the men came and . . .”

  The tears spilled silently down her cheeks, but she said no more.

  The Douglas said, “We’ll find your mam for you, lass, and I’ll see you safe, and your mam and Catherine, too. Do you know Dand’s family name, or kindred?”

  She shook her head hard. “They dinna ken nowt, and I canna go back there. They’ll be sore vexed wi’ me ’cause it be my fault he’s dead—for running away!”

  “Nay,” Archie said. “You’ll come with me, and I’ll see all safe. I’m thinking, if you know that your mam and Catherine crossed the river, you ken where they are.”

  She shook her head again, the tears falling unchecked now, silently.

  Sibylla opened her mouth but shut it again when Simon put a hand on her shoulder. He said, “We’ll keep Kit here overnight, my lord. I can meet you for our talk tomorrow at Hermitage and bring Kit with me. I warrant, as frightened as she has been, a good night’s sleep here in familiar surroundings will do her good.”

  “Aye, lad, that’s a good notion,” Archie said. “In troth, Hermitage is nae a good place for a bairn.”

  Sibylla did speak then, saying gently, “Mayhap, my lord, if Kit can remember Dand’s family name or where you might find her mother, she could stay here until you do. I warrant you’d travel more easily without a bairn to trouble you.”

  The Douglas gaze held hers until she saw understanding of her tactics dawn. He nodded then and said without looking at Kit, “But she’ll bide here only as long as she will talk to you, lass, and only if she can tell you what we need to know.”

  Nodding, Sibylla said, “She can sleep with me tonight, and we’ll talk.”

  “Nay,” Simon said, his hand firm on her shoulder. “You may sup with her upstairs and talk whilst you eat, but she’ll sleep
better if you put her to bed in Amalie’s chamber. Tetsy can stay with her there, so she’ll not be alone.”

  He spoke evenly, but Sibylla detected an implacable note. When she tried to read his expression, he leaned close and murmured in her ear, “After I bid farewell to our guests, I’ll expect to find you in my bedchamber, madam, where we will talk. Do not make me look for you.”

  “No, my lord,” she said in a normal tone. Heat flooded her cheeks then as she realized not only that Simon might misunderstand her, or choose to misunderstand, but that the others must think she disagreed with him about Kit. In an attempt to recover, she said, “Putting Kit in Amalie’s bed is an excellent idea, sir.”

  Noting a grin on Garth’s face and wry disbelief on Buccleuch’s, she squeezed Kit’s hand and said, “We’ll leave you to your supper now, my lords. Come, lassie.”

  “Be the laird vexed with us?” Kit murmured as they started up the stairs.

  “Nay,” Sibylla said, adding silently, only with one of us.

  As the thought formed, she heard Douglas say, “We’ll sup quickly and save most of our talking for Hermitage, so you can tend to your lady tonight, lad. If you’re wise, you’ll get on her gey fierce for that chancy bit of mischief today.”

  Sibylla paused long enough to hear Simon say, “Have no fear, my lord. I can promise she won’t try to face down an army again.”

  Although she allowed herself a wry smile at the un-likelihood of such a necessity arising, she was aware that only a dafty would feel optimistic about what Simon would say to her. After he’d had his say, though, was another matter.

  When Kit’s small hand slipped into hers again and she realized the child had also heard what the two men had said, Sibylla’s focus shifted and she said quietly, “We’ll talk a little now, Kit, and it will all come right. You’ll see.”

  Squeezing her hand, Kit nodded, still solemn. “I hope ye’re right.”

  The Douglas kept his word and haled the others off with him when they had supped, and Simon went with them to the bailey.

  No sign of the Governor’s presence remained there. He would travel only to Jedburgh or Kelso, but the moonless night was clear with a blanket of stars, so once out of the forest, he and his men would see their way easily. Not being Border bred, Fife would keep his torches lit and thereby miss much of the brilliant display.

  Archie, on the other hand—moon or no moon—was famous for traveling as swiftly by night as by day. He rarely ordered torches unless the night produced an over-cast sky. With less than eight miles between Elishaw and Hermitage, and a good track, he and his men would make speed.

  Simon’s impatience stirred when Westruther paused to adjust his saddle.

  Percy and the Douglas talked to each other as they waited for him, but Buccleuch eased his skittish mount nearer Simon and said with a grin, “It has been an interesting day, has it not? Elishaw has apparently acquired another strong-minded mistress, and an intrepid one at that.”

  “We’ll soon see how intrepid she is,” Simon said. He had meant to sound grim but realized belatedly that he was smiling.

  Wat Scott chuckled. “I wish you joy of her and offer my felicitations yet again. Your marriage promises to be as lively as mine.”

  “And mine,” Westruther said as he mounted. He was smiling, too.

  Simon watched until the gates began to swing shut and then turned and hurried upstairs to his chamber, wondering if his wife would be there or had dared to defy him again. He would not blame her much if she’d managed to get the truth out of Kit at last. They’d all seen that the bairn knew more than she had told them.

  When he opened his door to find candlelight blazing within and a cheerful fire on the hearth, he stepped in with a sense of anticipation, expecting to see that Sibylla had kept Tetsy or one of the other maids to protect her from the wrath she expected to face. But he saw no one he need send away, and she seemed not to have heard the latch click.

  She wore a light yellow robe and stood in one of the two window embrasures, its curtain half shut, gazing out at the starlit sky.

  When he shut the door, harder than usual, she turned and took a step toward him. Her robe fell open, and Simon’s breath caught.

  She wore not a stitch of clothing under it, and was apparently oblivious of her magnificent body, for she made no move to cover it.

  His mouth and lips felt dry, and if his heart was still beating he had no sense of it. Every bodily function had evidently ceased save one.

  Sibylla had wanted to surprise him, and his stunned look told her she had.

  “Did you expect to unman me, madam?” he said.

  “In troth, my lord, you do not appear to be at all unmanned.”

  His lips twitched.

  Evidently, he was no longer angry with her. He was just as clearly not thinking of Kit or the Douglas, or of anything save her lack of clothing.

  “Come here,” he said hoarsely.

  She walked toward him, but he met her halfway, putting both hands on her shoulders. “Do you know what the Douglas expects me to do?” he asked.

  Feigning innocence, she said, “Nay, what?”

  “This,” he murmured, scooping her into his arms and carrying her to the bed.

  As he put her down on it, she said demurely, “Art sure Archie meant you to ravish me, my lord.”

  “If he did not, he thinks me a fool,” he said, stripping off his jack and shirt and reaching for the lacing of his breeks.

  He did not wait, nor did he take time to pleasure her first but took her swiftly and powerfully. Even so, her body was ready for his and took fire the minute he touched her. She responded with enthusiasm, learning quickly how to stimulate him more, and urge him on. She also learned how she could tease him to make him even wilder for her until she lost control of herself and of him.

  When they lay back again, sated, he drew her close so that her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder. He was still breathing heavily, but after a few quiet moments, just as she began to fear he might have fallen asleep as he had before, he said, “Archie told me to get on you gey fierce for what you did today, sweetheart. I warrant I followed his instructions.”

  She chuckled. “I can vow that you did.”

  He was silent for a time, making her wonder if he would say more about the incident but not wanting to spoil their contentment by encouraging him. His breathing had quieted but he was definitely not asleep.

  “What did you learn from Kit?” he asked.

  “Enough to tell me that her mother was indeed Catherine’s wet-nurse,” Sibylla said. “Catherine’s mother died soon after her birth, and Kit’s mother, Lucy Aiken, had had Kit just a month before. She raised the girls together.”

  “Why wouldn’t Kit tell us about her before?”

  “She said that she and Dand had sworn a solemn oath to tell no one they even knew Catherine. Kit said her mam was terrified of being caught.”

  “Aye, she must be still. Fife would certainly charge her with abducting Catherine, and even young Kit is wise enough to fear her mother might hang.”

  Sibylla had not thought of that. “They won’t hang her, will they?”

  “Douglas promised to protect her,” Simon said. “He’ll see that she comes to no harm. What else did you learn?”

  “As best I could make out from the bits Kit could tell me, after Catherine’s father died and Fife assumed her guardianship, Lucy Aiken and the girls continued to live at Huntly with everything much as before. But when Fife arranged Catherine’s betrothal to Thomas and decided the Colvilles should take charge of her, they told Lucy that Catherine would no longer need her.”

  “So Lucy ran off with her,” he said.

  “Aye, Kit said her mam and Catherine were both gey upset. Sakes, but Lucy was the only mother Catherine had ever known and the girls were closer than most sisters. I warrant Kit was gey upset, too.”

  “How did they get to Oxnam Tower?”

  “That happened before they learned the Colvilles w
ould take Catherine. Kit said only that they’d had to leave Huntly, so I warrant Fife ordered the move.”

  “Aye, it makes sense if she was to go to Colville.” “When they ran away, they went to Dand’s family, kinsmen of Lucy’s on this side of the Tweed. But when the Colvilles got too close, Lucy took Catherine and fled back across the Tweed to other kinsmen, leaving Kit. Kit remembers her mentioning Melrose but does not know if Dand’s family knows where Lucy went.”

  “Aye, well, the Douglas will find her. We’ve Aikens on our land, come to that, so the name alone will help. Folks will tell Archie much that they would not have told the Colvilles. We’ll find them, sweetheart.”

  “I’d like to keep Kit here until we do,” Sibylla said. “Aye, sure,” he murmured. “I’ve a strong feeling that the place will seem a bit empty, anyway, until we have bairns of our own. I expect your father and my mother to make a match of it and keep Rosalie and Alice with them at Akermoor.”

  “Do you mind if that happens?”

  “Nay,” he said. “Your father finally admitted that the dispute was his fault, because he was already married to your mother when he met mine. It seems hard to imagine my mother stirring such passion in any man, but he swears he had only to see her to lose his wits over her.”

  “She was married then, too,” Sibylla said. “She told me your father caught them together and knocked my father down.”

  “Did she?” He chuckled. “Sir Malcolm did not tell me that. He said only that he and my father had had a falling out, that it was all his own fault, and that she had been furious with him for making her the focus of such attention. I’d not be surprised if she played that part so convincingly that she persuaded herself it was true.”

  “Until they met again, at all events,” Sibylla said. “If they do marry, I expect she will much enjoy setting the household at Akermoor to rights, for all that Father believes it runs smoothly now.”

  “Aye, she will,” he said. “I have great respect for her, but I do look forward to making decisions about Elishaw without always wondering what she will say.”