Border Storm

by Amanda Scott

  “I do not intend to wreak more havoc on Liddesdale,” Hugh said gently.

  “I do not believe you.”

  “I must do my duty, because many suspect that Rabbie Redcloak is on the prowl again,” he explained. “But whether he is or not, I am not Scrope, nor do I employ his methods.”

  “Do you not? You were in Liddesdale with him. Recall that I saw you there.”

  “Aye, that’s true, but I have more than once risked my reputation and position by refusing to carry out the worst of his orders.”

  “You dare to refuse him’?”

  “I do, but it’s not as you might think,” he said. “Scrope is a good soldier, but he is also a risk-taker with poor judgment who values his position. Hitherto, he has left me alone because he feared my uncle’s influence with the Queen.”

  “But your uncle is dead,” she said.

  “Aye, and I am now a warden myself. One does not try to read the Queen’s mind,” he added, thinking it was probably just as well that he could not.

  She had relaxed. Now she curled her legs beneath her, straightening her skirts as she said, “Then how does Scrope keep his position?”

  “By sending plausible lies about his accomplishments to Elizabeth,” Hugh said. “Also, by catering to certain members of the gentry and nobility who want him to keep the thankless job rather than saddle any of them with it.”

  “Truly?” She wrinkled her nose, thinking. “That seems odd.”

  “Does it?”

  “Aye, for at home, men frequently fight over who gets to be warden. My father did not want the job, though, because he said others might try to take it, might even murder him for it. But when the King begged him to take over for Buccleuch, Buccleuch swore that no one would interfere with him, so he accepted. I thought it would be the same here.”

  “It is not.” He paused watching her smooth a stray curl from her brow.

  Her every movement was seductive, and her innocence just made her more tempting. The gentle curve of her waist invited him to put his arms around her. He wanted to explore every curve of her body, to let his hands and lips roam free. The thought that, legally, she was his to do with as he pleased stirred temptation like he had never felt before. His body ached for her.

  He reminded himself that although he seemed able to stir a response in her, she did not return his lust. A voice in the back of his head reminded him, as well, just how much it would cost him to give into his lust.

  He stepped away from the bed toward the window as he said, “In Scotland, wardens wield great power, lass. It is not the same here in England.”

  “No?”

  “No. Elizabeth rarely appoints anyone who was born and bred in the Borders. Worse, she keeps most of her wardens in debt and dependent upon her goodwill. I cannot expect much support from her or from the Privy Council.”

  “But why?”

  “Because she does not want any warden to build a power base that might cause her the same sort of trouble that your Jamie’s Border lords cause him.”

  She nodded. “It is true that Buccleuch and some others are very powerful.”

  “Buccleuch was,” Hugh agreed with gentle emphasis. “Elizabeth will keep him on a tighter rein once she has him in ward at Berwick.”

  “But even your men say that Sir Robert Cary, who will be his jailer, is likely to give him as much comfort and freedom as James gave him at Blackness.”

  “Aye, that’s true. No one wants to treat a powerful prisoner too harshly, lest he find himself captured by that same prisoner later. And Buccleuch has the right to offer pledges, too. He need only guarantee that he will appear for trial, and then Elizabeth will free him again. But he will be less quick to defy her then.”

  She nodded, as if she understood it all.

  He doubted that she did understand, though. Few people understood the complexities of world politics. He rarely felt certain about them, himself, although as warden he would doubtless be embroiled in them.

  He said, “In the meantime, lass, I still intend to leave in the morning.”

  The wary look returned, but this time he steeled himself against it. He had to make her understand both his power over her and her position as his hostage.

  “You are to remain here until my men and I are gone,” he said. “You may use the time to reflect upon your duty as pledge for your sister’s honor. Since I must send my request for assistance to your father once I cross into Scotland, I will relay any message that you would like to send to him, but you are not to leave the castle again. Do you understand me?”

  “Aye,” she said with a sigh. “I understand.”

  “Good.” He left without another word, shutting the door with a snap.

  Watching him go, Laurie sighed again. She had heard of people being rendered witless by passion or lust, even by love. She could not for one minute imagine that she had fallen in love with Sir Hugh Graham, for not only was he her enemy but he was nothing like the man she had once envisioned herself marrying.

  That man was a dashing courtier, handsome and debonair, with a keen wit and an appreciation for women who were not fond of household duties. That man would be rich enough to afford a house steward like Lady Marjory’s to see to such things. To be sure, Sir Hugh had not liked seeing her in the kitchen, but that hardly counted for anything.

  He just wanted to control her, she decided, grateful that she had made him no promises. Only then did she realize that he had not made her any, either.

  Twenty

  He turned his back towards her

  And viewed the leaves so green…

  BEFORE SIR HUGH, NED Rowan, and their men departed early the following morning, Sir Hugh sent Nancy to wake Laurie and ask if she had messages for her family. He even provided her with paper, ink, and a quill, but although she slipped the bit of paper into her bodice in case she thought of anything she wanted to write later, she set the other items aside and told Nancy she had nothing just then to write.

  “Tell Sir Hugh I’d be grateful if he would relay my dutiful respects to my father and stepmother. He might also ask if they have had news of my sister, but that is all.” She assumed that she would hear, in any event, if May returned home.

  For the next few days, awaiting news, Laurie felt as jumpy as a hen on a hot griddle, but no word arrived from Sir Hugh or his men, or from Aylewood. Surely, she thought, her father must know May’s whereabouts by now. If she had thrown herself into a river, someone would have found her body. Had Blanche succeeded in persuading Sir William to protect her favorite daughter from the authorities by assuring him that Laurie would be happier in England? Were they hiding May?

  Surely not, she told herself. Even Blanche would not expect her to give her life for May, and even if Sir Hugh were in a mood to protect her, if she had to stand trial in her sister’s place, that was what would happen. Scrope wanted vengeance for Martin Loder’s death, and without May to corroborate her version of what had happened, it would be her word against Cornus Grant’s. No one would believe her, and Scrope would insist on hanging her. The thought made her shiver.

  Lady Marjory had no such worries. She continued in her usual blithe fashion, hovering over Laurie and behaving as if nothing mattered more to her than Laurie’s comfort—except, perhaps, Sir Hugh’s. Laurie had taken her measure, however, and although she was invariably friendly to the older woman, she had ceased to expect real support from her. Indeed, Lady Marjory’s impractical suggestions frequently proved more nuisance than help, but fortunately, real help soon arrived.

  Late the first morning, after Sir Hugh and his men had gone, Meggie made a rare appearance in the hall not long after Laurie and Lady Marjory sat down at the high table to break their fast. Two women followed in her wake.

  “This be Matty,” she said, gesturing to the older one. “And this be Sheila.”

  The two bobbed curtsies. They regarded Laurie curiously but seemed ready to accept her as the castle’s mistress, and for once she had no wish to contradic
t that perception. The two had worked at Brackengill before Janet Graham’s departure for Scotland, and it was clear from the start that they felt perfectly at home and had every intention of setting the castle to rights as quickly as they could.

  By the end of the week, three younger maidservants had joined them, including one who would serve Laurie in Nan’s stead. The very walls vibrated with their energy as they set to work under Matty’s direction, turning out bedchambers, shaking curtains and wall hangings, and scrubbing everything in sight.

  A week to the day after Sir Hugh left, as Laurie was discussing the day’s schedule with Meggie and Matty, Andrew ran into the kitchen puffed with news.

  “We’ve had word from the master,” he exclaimed.

  Nancy and Sheila bustled in from the scullery, wiping their hands on their aprons as they came. Peter turned on the bench by the little table, where he had been trying to teach John to play noughts and crosses with charcoal and a bit of slate.

  Laurie tensed, waiting for Andrew to announce that Sir Hugh’s men had burned more cottages and killed more citizens of Liddesdale.

  “Well, tell us your news, then, laddie,” Meggie said.

  “Aye, I’ll tell ye,” he said. “All them bluidy—” Looking guilty, he cleared his throat and began again. “All them wicked Scots reivers left their homes and fled into the woods in Tarras Moss afore the master could catch ’em—went to ground like foxes, they said. The devil hisself guards them woods!”

  “You guard your tongue, my wee laddie,” Meggie said.

  “Aye, sure, but they do say as much, Mam,” Andrew said. “Men what go in get swallowed up by bogs and such, they say, as if old Clooty hisself reaches right up through the mud to snatch them to Hell. D’ye ken them woods, mistress?”

  “Aye, I do,” Laurie said. “They are treacherous, right enough. The forest floor is more bog than dirt. Only those who live there ken the safe ways to go.”

  “D’ye ken their secret ways?”

  “Some of them I do,” she said, remembering when she and Sym had hidden in the tree.

  “Then ye could tell the master how to catch them bluidy reivers!”

  Laurie said evenly, “I cannot do that, Andrew.”

  “But—”

  “Haud your whist, ye fashious bairn,” Nancy snapped at him. “D’ye no ken that them reivers be her ain folk? She’s no going to split on them any more than ye would split on us!”

  “I just might split on you, Nancy Tattle-Mouth!”

  “Hush now,” Meggie commanded.

  “Did they say what your master means to do?” Laurie asked.

  Andrew looked at her but hesitated. “Happen I shouldna tell ye,” he said at last. “I plumb forgot ye be ain o’ the enemy, and all.”

  “That will be enough of that kind of talk,” Meggie said sharply.

  To change the subject, Laurie said, “Are the men of Brackengill all safe?”

  “Aye,” Andrew replied. “Master be setting up for a siege, is all. He says he’ll wait ’em out, that within a sennight they’ll come begging to ’im, ’cause they canna ha’ enough food to last them long, as many as what they be.”

  Laurie nodded, although she did not agree with Sir Hugh’s assessment. She knew that Davy Elliot kept stores of food for just such crises, and most Borderers could get by on surprisingly little when they had to. Moreover, she was certain that no siege would succeed in keeping everyone in the woods.

  Besieging Tarras Wood wasn’t like besieging a castle, where doors and windows were easy to see. The forest sprawled for miles. She was confident that if she were in any position to visit the Elliots, she could slip into the woods, make her way to the cottage, and slip away without Sir Hugh or his men being any the wiser.

  She kept these thoughts to herself but decided that Sir Hugh was less likely to succeed in his siege than to fail. Nevertheless, as the days passed, she found her thoughts often returning to Sir Hugh and the people of Tarras Wood.

  The castle hummed with activity. Matty and Sheila had taken up residence in a room near Meggie’s, and although the other maids went home at night, by day the sounds of their chatter and singing as they attended to their work enlivened life at Brackengill considerably. Even men who had been unhappy that Sir Hugh had left them behind to guard the castle grew more cheerful as each day passed.

  For a time, Laurie was content with her role as chatelaine. Her days were so busy that she even looked forward to relaxing evening conversations with Lady Marjory. However, once things settled into a routine, her contentment vanished. She knew the maidservants liked her and that none resented her supervision, but she was not accustomed to the role and Meggie no longer needed her assistance.

  Although Blanche had complained that she shirked her duties at Aylewood, she had not evaded them so much as she had evaded Blanche. Nonetheless, the result was the same. Without obvious work to do and with maids who knew their business better than she did, she soon found herself at a loss.

  Had Brackengill been as much her home as most of the servants seemed to think it was, she might have sought advice from Meggie, Matty, or even Sheila. As it was, still uncertain of her right to take charge, she did not make the attempt.

  The weather outside remained warm and beautiful, and she chafed more than ever at her imprisonment. She had expected Sir Hugh to return after a few days, either having succeeded or failed in his undertaking, and she missed him.

  The longer he stayed away the more Lady Marjory’s incessant, inquisitive kindness grated on her nerves.

  “You must miss our dear Sir Hugh dreadfully,” Lady Marjory said as the two of them lingered at the dinner table one afternoon when he had been gone nearly a fortnight.

  Laurie stared at her in astonishment, for although the older woman seemed to have read her thoughts, she was determined not to let her know that. Since she could think of nothing to say, it was just as well that Lady Marjory required no assistance in maintaining a flow of conversation.

  “This sort of thing—when men insist on going off to do battle or whatever it is that they choose to do—is always hard on women,” she went on. “Brampton used to spend his time talking politics with friends in London when he was not waiting upon the Queen or traveling to outlandish places to look after business affairs.”

  “You must have been lonely, madam,” Laurie said courteously, hoping to keep her talking about Brampton. “I imagine that when your husband came here to attend to Brackengill’s affairs, he must have been gone for weeks at a time.”

  “Faith, he frequently was away half the year,” Lady Marjory said. “Not that he spent all that time here, of course. He was used to say that Sir Hugh’s tutor was so reliable that he needn’t do more than look over the accounts once a year.”

  Smothering a yawn, Laurie apologized. “Forgive me, madam. I should not be sleepy so early in the day.”

  “What you want is fresh air, my dear,” Lady Marjory said. “Perhaps you would like me to walk with you in the bailey. I know that you enjoy exercise, and I believe it would not harm me to accompany you.”

  Knowing that she would maintain a snail’s pace, Laurie smiled and said, “I expect you would prefer to take your usual nap, madam. Still, I thank you for your kindness. What I really want is to get on a horse and ride for an hour on the fells.”

  “Then do so, by all means, child. The exercise will cheer your spirits.”

  Having already begun to suspect that Sir Hugh had said nothing to her or to his men about ordering her to remain inside the castle wall, Laurie hesitated on the brink of explaining, yet again, that she was not really mistress of Brackengill but its master’s hostage.

  Lady Marjory had never understood the situation, and Laurie’s private opinion was that she did not want to understand it. Prisoners, in her ladyship’s mind, were loathsome creatures—never females, and certainly never persons with whom one could enjoy an absorbing conversation.

  Less than a moment’s reflection persuaded Laurie that she was
capable of keeping her word to remain Sir Hugh’s hostage and still allow herself to enjoy occasional, much needed physical activity. Her pony was in the stable, after all, eating oats and getting fat.

  Ignoring her conscience, which accused her of evading the truth, she said, “What an excellent notion, madam! I believe I will go for a ride if I can persuade one of the men to saddle a horse for me.”

  “You have merely to command it, my dear, but you should not go alone, you know. Take two men with you, and be certain they properly arm themselves.”

  “Aye, madam,” Laurie said, but her spirits fell. Most of the men were friendly, but she doubted that any would provide her with a horse. Since she did not want to suffer the humiliation of having her order ignored or, worse, denied, she sought out Meggie, finding her in the kitchen nursing wee Susan.

  “I’d like to explore the countryside a bit,” Laurie told her after a few moments of desultory conversation.

  “Aye, ye should do that,” Meggie said, nodding. “It being Wednesday, Matty and I baked this morning. Mistress Janet were used to tak’ fresh loaves to them that couldna bake their own. Likely ye’d enjoy meeting some o’ Sir Hugh’s tenants, and since Ned Rowan’s made no objection to our Andrew goin’ about his business again, he could gae wi’ ye, to show ye who should get the loaves.”

  “I’d like that,” Laurie said, surprised to discern no hint of disapproval in Meggie’s expression. Was it possible Sir Hugh had said nothing to anyone except her? She said with a sigh, “Lady Marjory said I must take two of the men along.”

  “Find my Andrew, then, and tell him ye want your pony saddled. He’ll ken who amongst the men-at-arms should gae wi’ ye. Or ye can ask that Geordie. He be acting captain o’ Brackengill, ye ken, whilst Sir Hugh and Ned Rowan be awa’.”

  Laurie nodded, still unable to believe that her plan might succeed. She liked Geordie, but if Sir Hugh had given him orders to keep her inside the wall, he would do so. Deciding to put it to the test, she went into the bailey and soon found him in the stable, overseeing yet another repair of a stall.

  “Godamercy,” Laurie exclaimed when she saw the splintered wall, “what happened here?”