As his audience emitted a collective gasp, another dirk joined the first. Two white balls then flew from his agile hands toward the high table on the dais, one to the ladies’ end, the other to the men’s.
The younger of Jenny’s two Dunwythie cousins, fourteen-year-old Lady Fiona, leapt up and captured the ladies’ ball with a triumphant cry. At the other end of the table, one of the men put up a hand almost casually to catch the second one.
By the time Jenny looked again at the jugglers, the older one had six daggers spinning through the air. She had no idea where they had come from or what had become of the four balls he’d still had when she had looked away.
Musicians had played from the minstrels’ gallery throughout the afternoon and now into the evening. But as the dirks flew ever higher, each one threatening to slice the juggler’s hands when it descended, the music slowly faded. Soon the hall was so quiet that one could hear the great fire crackling on the hooded hearth.
Clearly oblivious to the juggler and the increasing tension his skill had produced in his audience, Phaeline, Lady Dunwythie, said in her usual placid way, “Our Reid is much taken with you, is he not, Janet, dear?”
Concealing her irritation as she turned to her uncle’s round-faced, richly attired second wife, Jenny said quietly, “Reid is ape-drunk, madam.”
“He is, aye,” Phaeline agreed.
“Such behavior does naught to recommend him to me.”
“You are young, my dear. So is he. But he will soon teach you how to please him, and I cannot doubt that you two will deal well together.”
“I fear the only thing that pleases him, madam, is my inheritance.”
“That may well be true, although he is not blind to your attractions,” Phaeline said without a blink. “One must be practical, though. My lord might have preferred our Hugh to marry you, because ’tis Hugh who is Laird of Thornhill. But as Hugh swears never to marry again, and as Reid must be provided for until he inherits Thornhill, one could say that your betrothal simply arranged itself.”
Resisting the impulse to glance again at the dark-eyed gentleman at Lord Dunwythie’s right, Jenny said, “But Sir Hugh cannot be much older than Reid is.”
“That is, unfortunately, also true,” Phaeline said. “Hugh is just five years older, and that is a difficulty, is it not? Hugh is perfectly aware of it, too. So one might expect him to have provided an adequate allowance for Reid. But he has refused to do so, saying that Reid would do better to win his spurs, and mayhap even an estate of his own. I confess, that did vex me until—”
“Until my lord Dunwythie assumed guardianship of me and my estates,” Jenny said, widening her eyes. “Mercy, but you are blunt, madam.”
“ ’Twas providential, though, as even my lord was quick to see.”
Jenny did not bother to point out that it had proven other than providential for her. She knew she would be wasting her breath.
Applying to her uncle to support her against Phaeline’s wishes would likewise prove useless. His lordship exerted himself in all ways to please his wife, because he still hoped for an heir. Phaeline was thirteen years younger than he was, but although they had been married for fifteen years and she had several times been with child, she had produced only their daughter, Fiona.
Lord Dunwythie’s first wife had been Jenny’s maternal aunt Elsbeth, who had died in childbed, just as Jenny’s mother had. Elsbeth’s daughter, the lady Mairi Dunwythie, was now eighteen. She sat at Phaeline’s left with Fiona to Mairi’s left.
Should Phaeline fail to produce a male heir, Mairi would, at his lordship’s death, inherit the ancient Dunwythie estates and become a baroness in her own right just as Jenny had upon her father’s death.
However, Phaeline had recently declared that she was pregnant again.
Leaning nearer, Phaeline said, “Reid was wrong, you know.”
Jenny looked at her. “Wrong?”
“Aye, for today is Friday, so your first banns will be read Sunday, just two days from now. Thus, your wedding is but three weeks hence . . .”
“. . . and two days,” Jenny said, stifling a sigh of frustration.
But Phaeline was no longer listening. Looking past Jenny, she said to her husband, “Prithee, my lord, I would take my leave of you now. In my condition, I need much rest, so I mean to retire. You need not escort me, however,” she added graciously. “You and our guests must continue to enjoy yourselves as you will.”
Dunwythie stood when she did, as did everyone else at the high table. Those in the lower hall were watching a troupe of players rush into the central space and paid no heed to those on the dais.
Summoning a gillie, Dunwythie told him to see his lady safely to her chamber. As soon as she had gone, everyone sat down again and his lordship resumed his conversation with Sir Hugh.
Mairi immediately changed her seat to the one by Jenny, whereupon, Fiona—doubtless fearing as usual that she might miss something—moved to Mairi’s.
“Art reconciled yet to this marriage they’ve arranged for you, Jenny?” Mairi asked as the players took places to start their play.
“Resigned, I expect, but scarcely reconciled,” Jenny said. “ ’Tis of no use to repine, though, now that the betrothal is done. Phaeline is most determined.”
“I think Uncle Reid is handsome,” Fiona said brightly. “You are lucky, Jenny. I just hope I can find someone like him one day.”
“You are welcome to him if you like,” Jenny said. “Sakes, I cannot marry my own uncle,” Fiona said with a giggle. “But I do think you will come to like him in time, don’t you?”
Mairi said, “Don’t tease her, Fee. It is not kind when you know that she does not like him.”
“But I don’t understand why she does not,” Fiona said. “We can talk about that later,” Mairi said. “For now, if you wish to stay with us, you must keep silent. Otherwise, I shall tell our father it is time you were in bed.”
“You would not be so mean,” Fiona said.
When Mairi only looked at her, she grimaced and subsided.
Jenny had returned her attention to the players and was wondering what their lives must be like when Mairi said, “That tall juggler was astonishing, was he not?”
“Aye, he was,” Jenny agreed. “You know, Peg’s brother is a member of this company—one of the jugglers. Don’t you wonder what it must be like to travel about as they do and see all the fine places and important people they must see?”
When silence greeted her question, she looked at Mairi and saw that she had cocked her head and her gray eyes had taken on a vague, thoughtful look. She said at last, “Do you know, Jenny, I cannot imagine how they bear it. No bed of one’s own, only pallets on a stranger’s floor, and traveling, traveling, all the time.”
“But the only traveling I have done is to move here from Easdale, whilst you have traveled with your father and Phaeline,” Jenny said. “You said you enjoyed it.”
“Aye, sure, for we stayed with kinsmen everywhere we stopped. That was fun, because they were all eager to show us how well they could feed and house us, and provide entertainment for us. But these minstrels must provide the entertainment wherever they go, and if they displease the one who is to pay them, they go unpaid. They may even face harsh punishment if they offend a powerful lord. It cannot be a comfortable life, Jenny. I much prefer my own.”
“Aye, well, you don’t have to marry your odious cousin,” Jenny said.
“I am thankful to say that Reid is not my cousin,” Mairi reminded her.
“He is as much your cousin by marriage as Fiona is mine,” Jenny said. “He clearly cannot wait until I have to marry him, and he just as clearly expects to become master of Easdale. Sithee, that is bound to create difficulties, because he knows naught about managing such a large estate, whereas my father trained me to do so. Such a marriage cannot prosper. I am sure of it.”
Fiona said, “Still it will be better than if they had decided to wed you to Sir Hugh, Jenny. Only think what th
at would be like! He is accustomed to managing estates and would not care a whit that you can manage your own. Why, he scarcely says a word to us. Indeed, he is so solemn that my mother said one could light a fire between his toes and he would simply wonder if one had built it to burn properly.”
Jenny laughed but took care not to look again at Sir Hugh. Fiona’s portrayal was an apt one, for Sir Hugh Douglas was unlike any man Jenny had met. He did not flirt with her or tease. Nor did he laugh or make jest with his friends. She had heard Phaeline say, too, that once
Hugh made up his mind, he never changed it. He would just fold his arms across his chest, she said, and pretend to listen. But one’s words would have no more effect on him than drops of water on a stone.
“I don’t want Sir Hugh, either,” she said firmly. “I should infinitely prefer to choose my own husband.”
“But you don’t know any other suitable men,” Mairi said. “Had Father taken you to Glasgow, or to Edinburgh or Stirling, I warrant many men more suitable than Reid is would have paid court to you, for you are beautiful, wealthy, and—”
“Have mercy!” Jenny interjected, striving to keep her voice from carrying to anyone but Mairi and Fiona. “It is too late even to be thinking of such a course. Moreover, whilst I do not count my worth low, Mairi, my looks are not at all what fashion decrees. At least, so Phaeline has told me. And she, you know, takes good care always to know about such things.”
“That is true, Mairi,” Fiona said. “Mam does know what people like. You recall that she said only yesterday that she fears one reason you have not yet contracted a marriage is that men consider your fairness unfashionably insipid.”
Mairi smiled. “My coloring won’t matter a whit if your mam fails to produce a son, dearling. As for Jenny’s beauty, although she counts it low, others will not. Had your mam not decided to wed her to your uncle Reid before anyone else could clap eyes on her, Jenny would find many eligible young men eager to admire her.”
Desiring to change the subject, Jenny said, “Reid will return shortly, and I do not want him near my bedchamber, so I think I must go before he gets back.”
“Sakes, Jenny, you cannot leave your own betrothal feast!” Fiona protested.
“I am feeling very decisive tonight,” Jenny said. “So I think I will.”
“Then we should go, too,” Mairi said. Before Fiona could protest, she raised her voice a little and said to Lord Dunwythie, “Forgive me, sir, but Jenny would like to retire now. I think Fiona and I should go, too, if you will excuse us all.”
Jenny glanced toward the lower hall, half fearing to see Reid Douglas already lurching drunkenly toward her between the trestles. She did not see him, but when she looked at her uncle, she realized that he had been watching her.
“D’ye want to seek your chamber now, lassie?” he asked.
“Aye, sir, I do.”
He nodded and observed the lower hall for a long moment before turning back to meet her gaze again. “I’ll see that ye’re not disturbed then.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she said with deep sincerity as she made her curtsy.
Hurrying from the hall with Mairi and Fiona, she cast one more wistful glance at the minstrels and wondered again what it would be like to be one.
Hugh was bored, so when the play ended, he lost no time in bidding his host goodnight. He did not want to spend the next hour exchanging polite phrases with other guests, most of whom were doubtless as eager to be away as he was if they lived near enough to go home, or to seek their chambers if they did not.
The hour was still early, and he was not yet ready for bed, especially as he was sharing his brother’s chamber. So he went outside for fresh air instead, taking care to avoid the forecourt, where other guests would be taking their departure.
The air was crisp, the moon high, and he could hear the surf in the distance, for Annan House sat atop a hill overlooking Solway Firth. By walking a short distance, he obtained a fine moonlit view of the water. The tide was surging in.
He stood there until he grew chilly. Then, reluctantly, he went to his brother’s room, found it still empty, and went to bed, expecting Reid to disturb him on his return. Instead, he slept deeply until a clamorous knocking at the door awoke him.
As he opened his eyes, his host entered and said abruptly, “Jenny’s gone. Your brother is still in a stupor in the lower hall where he passed out last night. Not that I would send him after her even if he were sober. The lad lacks discretion.”
Sitting up, Hugh said, “Where would she go?” “Heaven knows,” Dunwythie said. “No one saw her leave.”
“But why do you come to me?”
“I cannot go after her without creating the devil of a stir, and your brother would create a worse one. Nor can I send any of my men. You’ll have to go.”
“Sakes, sir, but this is no concern of mine,” Hugh said firmly.
THE DISH
Where authors give you the inside scoop!
From the desk of Julia Harper
Dear Reader,
So many books to read, so little time! Do you find that you have trouble deciding which book to pick up next? Should you read that cat mystery your mother keeps shoving at you or the new zombie book your sister loved so much? And then there are those ubiquitous lists of “classic” books that you must read before you die. What is a reader to do? Well, never fear, I’ve just made your reading decisions a little easier with the following comparison of my new book, FOR THE LOVE OF PETE (on sale now), and one of those books you really should’ve read in freshman lit:
A Handy Dandy Guide, comparing my new
book, FOR THE LOVE OF PETE, with William
Faulkner’s AS I LAY DYING
AS I LAY DYINGVS.FOR THE LOVE OF PETE
First line of book: Jewel and I come up from the field, following the path in single file. Things finally came to a head between Zoey Addler and Lips of Sin the afternoon he tried to steal her parking space.
Heroine: Addie Bundren, who is dying Zoey Addler, who is alive and on a mission to rescue her kidnapped baby niece.
Hero: Several choices here, but I’m going with Anse Bundren, who needs false teeth. Dante Torelli, hot, if uptight, FBI agent. His teeth are all intact.
The Plot: Well, Addie dies and her family has to bury her. They’re not very good at it. Dante Torelli is an under- cover FBI agent assigned to protect a mob informant and his family. But the informant’s hiding place is blown and a baby girl is snatched by a ruthless hit man. Now, Dante must save the toddler, uncover the traitor in his department, evade various bad guys, and deal with Zoey, the toddler’s sexy aunt, all before the biggest mob trial in Chicago’s history, set to begin in just three days.
Love Scene: I’m not sure there is one, but Addie did once have an affair with the preacher who’s going to bury her. Woohoo!
Ends: SPOILER ALERT! One of Addie’s sons gets sent to an insane asylum, but at least her rotting body is saved from a flooding river by another son. Yea! Happily (and with more hot sex)!
There! Didn’t that make your decision a little easier?
xxoo,
www.juliaharper.com
From the desk of Lisa Dale
Dear Fellow Bookworms,
Do you ever get the feeling that life is too complicated? That you just want to get back to the things that matter most?
I do. That’s why I wrote my first novel, SIMPLE WISHES (on sale now), about a woman who makes an impulsive mistake that forces her to leave her New York City apartment and escape to her deceased mother’s cottage in the country.
It probably won’t surprise you that I wrote much of the novel in my grandparents’ cabin on a drab dirt road in Pennsylvania. Every morning, I would get up, make tea, do a bit of reading, and write. You can see pictures of the cabin on my blog, www.BookAnatomy101.com.
Some of the stories in SIMPLE WISHES come from real life. For example, once, my grandfather’s collie ran away and I was the lucky one to apprehend the fugitive. Whe
n I found him he was barking and running in circles around a tree. I bent down to grab his collar and when I looked up, there was a huuuge black bear staring down at me from a branch above my head! Gives new meaning to the phrase: barking up the wrong tree.
Unlike me, the hero of SIMPLE WISHES, Jay Westvelt, is totally accustomed to living in the middle of nowhere. He’s a rough-around-the-edges recluse and a brilliant artist, and he’s intrigued when a prickly yet captivating city slicker moves in next door. Adele has to admit her attraction to Jay, but because she plans to return to the city, she can’t let herself fall in love. She vows their relationship is nothing more than a fling—but little does she know that Jay has vows of his own.
SIMPLE WISHES is about what’s most important to us as women—getting over the past, and sorting the things that matter from the things that don’t. I’d love to hear about your simple wishes. Visit my Web site at www.lisadalebooks.com and leave a note on my “Wishing Well” to share a kind wish for yourself, your friends, your family, or the whole world.
Happy reading!
From the desk of Amanda Scott
Dear Reader,
Lady Sibylla Cavers of BORDER MOONLIGHT (on sale now) has to deal with Simon Murray, Laird of Elishaw, a man who never forgets a wrong . . . or forgives one.
However, Sibylla, like most of my heroines, is a capable, intelligent woman who knows her own mind. By the time she’s finished with Simon, he’s not sure which end is up. That is not to say she wins every battle, but she does hold her own.
I think the reason I enjoy creating strong, independent heroines is that I come from a long line of strong, independent women. Since most of my many Scottish ancestors hailed from the Borders, I often tell people I have horse thieves hanging from nearly every branch of the family tree. I have certainly used many examples from that tree to create my heroines—and a number of my heroes, for that matter.
Thanks to a little nepotism, my triple-great-grandfather, Andrew Scott, whose father came to America from the Borders, became the first—and from 1819 to 1821, the only—superior, or supreme, court judge for the Arkansas Territory. His older brother, John Scott, was one of the first U.S. senators from Missouri and named the state of Arkansas. Their wives were sisters, daughters of lawyer John Rice-Jones, a Welshman who served as commissary general to George Rogers Clark’s northwest expedition, among many other accomplishments.
Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy 2] Page 34